Hook's Apprentice
by MadnessJones
Summary: G1: Hook is overworked by being the only Decepticon medic, and decides he wants to train another Decepticon to be a medical apprentice. There's no way this can backfire on him, right? No pairings.
1. Green With Envy

_Author's Notes: Welcome to a new Constructicon fanfic! I've written for Scavenger, and I've written for Long Haul. I guess it's about time I wrote one for Hook. It's weird I waited this long since Hook is arguably the most popular Constructicon (well, him and Scrapper). This chapter is mostly to establish the premise of the story. I like this chapter though. I had to rewrite it a couple times to get things just right. Anyway, enough rambling. Thank you for checking out my story, and I hope you will follow, favorite, and review :)_

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Chapter 1

Green With Envy

It all started when the Decepticons had led the Autobots into a trap by holding a few important human leaders hostage out in the desert. Jazz and Mirage had managed to rescue the humans thanks to their skills as saboteurs, but the rest of the Autobots were fighting for their lives as the Decepticons rained unholy fury down on them.

The combiners were locked in combat as well, with Superion fighting Menasor and Bruticus in an unfair two-on-one match. Devastator was out of commission because Scavenger had drank motor oil mixed with rust and had to spend the day in the medbay. Hook wished he could be there to repair his gestalt brother, but he along with the other Constructicons were needed on the battlefield.

Defensor would have tipped the scales for Superion, but they couldn't combine because First Aid was needed with Ratchet to tend to the Autobots that had been injured thus far in the fight. Superion was a strong Autobot gestalt, and First Aid just hoped he would be able to handle himself on his own. To be fair though, out of the 5 gestalt members that made up Defensor 2 of them were technically pacifists; Groove and First Aid. How much help would they be really?

"First Aid, over here!" Ratchet called out to First Aid, who was currently bandaging Trailbreaker, "Windcharger is bleeding out. I need more energon and a filter!"

First Aid did as he was told and ran to Ratchet's side. Windcharger was in terrible shape, yet somehow he was still conscious. His chassis was blown open and his spark was exposed; the casing had been broken. First Aid was still young and seeing a mech suffer like that still bothered him, but he knew Ratchet needed him to be strong, so he did his best to hide his disgust and sorrow. He took a cube of medical grade energon out of his subspace and watched as Ratchet attached it to Windcharger's chassis near the spark.

"Hold his head steady," Ratchet ordered First Aid, "I'm going to weld as much of this back together as I can and he'll feel less pain if the energon flow to his processor is reduced."

"Can't we just use painkillers?" First Aid asked.

"No," Ratchet replied hurriedly as he began to weld fuel lines together, "If he blacks out now he might not wake back up. Keep him conscious."

" _Raaaa_ ," Windcharger rasped, but energon clogged his vocalizer and prevented him from speaking.

"I know, I'll be careful," Ratchet assured the ailing minibot.

With those words Ratchet and First Aid began the arduous task of repairing their fallen friend. Unbeknownst to Ratchet and First Aid however, their exploits were being watched. Amid the chaos of the battlefield Hook, the Decepticon medic, watched the two Autobot medics working from up above them behind a cliff facing. He observed as they stabilized the minibot and worked in perfect sync with one another. Ratchet would give an order and First Aid would obey without pause. Sometimes First Aid would simply do what was needed because he already knew how. They worked with the grace and coordination of dancers, and soon they moved on to the next patient.

"I should shoot that minibot," Hook said to himself, "But it isn't worth the ammo."

Hook was used to that level of cooperation he saw in the duo of medics, but he was only used to it in battle. He was the head (literally) of Devastator, and when he and his 5 gestalt brothers combined they became a single cohesive unit. To be fair, Devastator was much stupider than the 6 geniuses it took to combine into him, but the fact that they worked so well together at all was rare. Menasor fought within himself, and Bruticus was made up of mechs that couldn't even trust each other. Devastator was an accomplishment like no other in the Decepticon ranks.

Still, it wasn't the same. Once the Constructicons separated they each went back to doing their own thing. Hook was the only one in Megatron's base with actual training as a medic. Scrapper was an architect and construction worker, Bonecrusher was a laborer, Mixmaster was a chemist, Scavenger was an archaeologist, and Long Haul was...well, he could carry things.

Hook watched as Ratchet and First Aid repaired yet another mech; this time it was Tracks. He sighed and then glared at them, unable to believe himself for feeling jealous of Ratchet's apprentice. He wanted his own medic in training. He wanted someone to boss around, to teach the fundamentals of medicine and repair, to be an extra pair of servos in the medbay, or just to talk shop with and actually be understood. He loved his gestalt brothers, but they were no help to him in a medbay and had no interest in becoming medics.

"Decepticons, retreat!" Megatron called out, and Hook saw his leader had a wound from Optimus Prime's rifle on his leg.

Sighing and shrugging his shoulder guards, Hook flew up in the air and retreated with the rest of the Decepticons. He looked down at the Autobots as they left, and he noted they were all alive.

 _Of course they're all alive._ Hook thought bitterly. _They have several medics to repair them, including Ratchet and his little stooge. Why doesn't Megatron kill the medics first?_

It was annoying for Hook to see just how many repair mechs were available to the Autobots. There was of course Ratchet and First Aid, but there was also Wheeljack, Perceptor, Hoist, and even their human pet with the fat gut was able to perform repairs! It just wasn't fair. Hook sometimes wished he could just rip them all to pieces, but then they'd probably just manifest another medic out of Optimus Prime's subspace pocket.

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Back aboard their underwater spaceship otherwise known as the Nemesis, Hook was busy performing repairs on the Decepticons that were injured during the fight. Hook raced around the medbay trying to figure out how best to triage his patients. He had to repair Megatron first since he was leader, but fortunately his leg repair only took a few breems. Unfortunately for Hook Starscream was the most heavily wounded, so Hook had to repair him next. He hated giving Starscream any sort of special treatment because it made the underhanded second in command even more arrogant and entitled than usual.

Hook added protoform metal to Starscream's wings to fix the open wounds and repaired fuel lines around Starscream's face and chassis. It looked pretty bad, and Hook could tell from the charred areas that most of the damage was done by Megatron himself; both by fusion cannon and by fist. It was most likely a result of Starscream trying to shoot Megatron during the confusion of the battle, but then again the two had fought for so long that it didn't seem like Megatron even needed a reason anymore.

"Hey Hook, get over here!" Astrotrain called out amid the controlled chaos of the medbay, "Blitzwing's turning a weird shade of lavender around his purple parts. Is he dying?"

"Probably," Hook replied casually as he finished up on Starscream, "I'll be there in a moment."

"Well hurry up!" Astrotrain demanded, "He won't last much longer!"

Hook growled under his vocalizer and sped up his work on Starscream. He hated repairing Blitzwing ever since that traitor had commissioned the Constructicons to build a maze for him and then refused to give them what they were owed. To be fair they had gone against Megatron to work with Blitzwing, so part of it was on them. Still, Hook had felt bitterly about the triple changer ever since.

He managed to stabilize Starscream enough that he could quit and come back later. He then ran over to where Astrotrain was trying to scoop Blitzwing's energon back into his body with a bucket. A _bucket_! Hook couldn't believe how stupid some of his teammates were. Energon had to introduced to the fuel lines slowly, and getting it anywhere else could cause clogging in the gears and circuits.

"Get out of my way!" Hook ordered, "I'll tend to him now."

"Is he gonna live, Doc?" Astrotrain asked worriedly.

"Unfortunately, yes," Hook replied drolly as he began to clean up the areas Astrotrain had messed up, "Just give me some space to work."

Hook continued his work on Blitzwing as Astrotrain left the medbay. Blitzwing was in pretty bad shape, though a lot of his problems stemmed from Astrotrain trying to fix him. Hook hated it when the most moronic members of the group tried to play doctor on his patients. Once again he was reminded of how First Aid helped Ratchet and it made him wish for a competent assistant even more.

"Hey Hook!" Long Haul shouted from the entrance, "We got another one coming in! This time it's Swindle!"

" _Tell him to wait!_ " Hook exploded as he threw his scalpel on the ground, "I'm busy! Can't you see all these mechs in my medbay!? If Swindle isn't dying then tell him to get lost!"

"Sorry Hook, you gotta help him," Long Haul shrugged; unconcerned by the outburst, "He's got an exposed spark chamber."

"Just my luck," Hook ground out through his denta, "Set him on the berth next to Blitzwing. I'll tend to him as soon as I can."

"Is there anything I can do?" Long Haul asked.

"Yes," Hook replied with a weary sigh, "Get me a stiff cube of high grade."

Long Haul nodded and did as instructed. By the time the dump truck Constructicon came back with the high grade Hook was already elbow deep in Swindle's chassis rebuilding the spark chamber from what little bit was left of it. Judging from the wound it was caused by Ironhide. At this point in his career Hook could pretty much tell which weapon belonged to which mech, no matter which side they were fighting for.

" _Ohhhh! Owwww!_ " Hook heard moaning coming from across the room behind a curtain, and could tell it was Scavenger, "Is that you, carrier?"

"That's an IV pole," Hook replied, already aware of what Scavenger was looking at even though he couldn't see him, "Scavenger, your anti-rust medicine is on the nightstand next to your berth. Drink it now while you're still awake."

"I don't need it..." Scavenger moaned feebly, "My tank already feels better."

"Liar," Hook shot back while continuing to repair Swindle, "Take your medicine, and from now on don't drink from old cubes you find lying around your quarters. I swear, you are such a hoarder it's a wonder a rust infection hasn't killed you by now. You should know better than to drink from a cube that's just lying around."

"It wasn't that bad," Scavenger argued, though his voice sounded weak and frail, "I drink rusty fuel all the time, and I'm the- _ow_! picture of health..."

"Just take your medicine," Hook sighed defeatedly while welding Swindle's chassis shut.

Hook could hear Scavenger shuffle around on his med-berth, and eventually he heard the telltale sound of medicine being swallowed. He hated how stubborn Scavenger could be, but it wasn't like he didn't understand how he came to be this way. Cybertron was a planet ravaged by war and running out of fuel. Starvation was common, even among Decepticons, and prolonged fuel deprivation had made it so Scavenger cherished every bit of energon he had, even if it was too old and contaminated to consume. Frankly, it was no wonder so many Decepticons had mental disorders at this point. Many Cybertronians on both sides had processor damage due to chronic starvation on their home planet.

Hook looked around the medbay to see what work had yet to be done. Every mech was stabilized or discharged, there was a lot of stuff to clean up, and he still had half a cube of high grade to finish. He decided the cleaning could wait and he went to the Constructicons' private break room with his cube.

Hook enjoyed this break room whenever he could get away. Many Decepticons were jealous of this place, but hey, being Megatron's most reliable combiner did have its perks. Hook was only there for a breem before his boss, Scrapper, came into the room with a cube of high grade of his own.

"Hey Hook, how's it goin'?" Scrapper asked as he sat down at the table across from the medic, "You see the new beauty marks Megatron left on Starscream? Heh heh. When will that seeker ever learn?"

"Hopefully someday," Hook replied, "Last time Starscream threw a tantrum he came back with the Combaticons. I get so sick of repairing those ill-equipped gestalt wannabes. Swindle got into it with Ironhide and almost offlined."

"Heh, I'm not surprised. Swindle even frags off his own team," Scrapper commented, "So, Scavenger doin' any better?"

"A little," Hook replied as he stared down into his cube, "He drank rusty energon. What am I supposed to do with that? Even a sparkling can see rust in an energon cube. Honestly, that mech eats like an Insecticon! What are we supposed to do with him?"

"Pretend he's slow if anyone asks?" Scrapper joked, but then noticed Hook wasn't laughing, "Eh, sorry."

"It's not just Scavenger, it's everything," Hook lamented, "I'm so tired of doing all of the repair work myself. I know we are all good builders, but when it comes to fixing our soldiers I'm always on my own. I want an apprentice."

"I'm sure Megatron would allow that," Scrapper replied nonchalantly, "I mean, he does still like us after all."

"Perhaps, but it's such slim pickings here on earth," Hook replied pessimistically, "Yet the best the Decepticons have to offer are already here on this planet. Other than you and the other Constructicons, I just don't know if I could trust anyone else to work with me."

"What about Vortex?" Scrapper suggested, "He knows a thing or two about anatomy and psychology."

"He's a torturer," Hook replied with a flat glare, "I wouldn't trust Vortex with anything other than an interrogation. I might not like most of my patients, but their well being is still important to me."

"Well then, what about Astrotrain?" Scrapper posited.

"That fraghead nearly killed Blitzwing today trying to help him," Hook groused, "I'd sooner trust an Autobot with my toolkit than Astrotrain."

"The Coneheads?" Scrapper tried again.

"Well, Ramjet and Thrust are too stupid," Hook reasoned, "Dirge would almost work, but his fear-inducing sound frequency would make it difficult to keep the patients calm. That could cause further injury. No, not him either."

"What about one of Soundwave's brats?" Scrapper asked with a shrug.

" _No_ ," Hook shook his helm in distaste, "Only Rumble and Frenzy could work the tools, and they're too mischievous to be trusted around unconscious mechs."

"So, the real problem is you can't trust anyone?" Scrapper stated rather than asked.

"Exactly," Hook replied as his shoulder guards slumped.

Hook's reasons for wanting an assistant were mostly selfish, but deep down he also understood the significance of what was happening. He was the only Decepticon left with extensive medical knowledge. Most medical professionals were Autobots. The Decepticons planned on eventually exterminating all Autobots. If Hook didn't find a new medic to train in the ways of detailed and professional repair, then the technique could eventually be lost to time, and the Cybertronian species could go extinct. This thought made Hook realize just how important this task truly was. He needed an apprentice, and soon.


	2. Clockwork

_Author's Notes: Wow, 7 reviews for the first chapter? Thank you so much! After this chapter so many of you tried to guess where this story is going. Sadly, no one guessed correctly. I think once you read this chapter however the plot will start to make sense. I don't have an ending in mind for this fic yet, but the scenario was too good of an opportunity to pass up. Also, I know there are other Decepticon medics in other continuities, but I'm going to keep things strictly G1 cartoon this time. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter of "Hook's Apprentice" and please favorite, follow, and review :)_

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Chapter 2

Clockwork

Hook measured the dosage carefully for Scavenger's medicine. The medbay was quiet for once since the other four Constructicons were off building a new temporary fortress for Megatron to use for his latest doomsday weapon, which they would _also_ have to build. Hook sometimes wondered what Megatron did before he and his gestalt brothers arrived on earth. They probably had to rely on Soundwave and his cassette brats to build things, and _pit_ _knows_ what those buildings must've looked like!

It had been four days since the attack on the Autobots and six days since Scavenger contracted the rust infection in his tank. He was finally starting to get well, but Hook kept him in the medbay just to ensure Scavenger would take his medicine as well as keep away from the filth inhabiting his room.

"Hook! I lost the TV remote in the crack of my berth handles again!" Scavenger shouted from behind the curtain.

"For the hundredth time, the handles pull out," Hook replied before pulling back the curtain to see how Scavenger was doing.

Scavenger was still lying on his chassis on the berth. With his shovel tail up in a sling to prevent pressure on his tank and right arm digging in between the crack of his medberth in search of the remote, he looked like quite a sight. Kind of like a scorpion being held up by its tail with a set of tweezers.

"Ready to take your medicine, Rusty?" Hook teased.

"Shove it in my backhoe," Scavenger groused as he barely wiggled in an attempt to situate his helm, "Why am I still taking the slagging medicine? It tastes like rusted barf."

"So did the energon that put you in here, but you didn't complain about that," Hook retorted with an amused smirk.

Scavenger groaned as Hook came closer to help him with the medicine. Scavenger obediently tilted his helm so Hook could tip the cup of liquid tank disinfectant to his mouth components. He swallowed and grimaced at the taste, and Hook smiled at how immature his combiner brother was acting. Even after all these vorns Scavenger could still be such a sparkling. It was a comfort to Hook to know some things never changed.

"When I get well, I better not see any of my stuff gone," Scavenger warned Hook, though his warning wasn't very threatening with his tail hanging over his helm like a guillotine.

"Don't worry, you won't," Hook replied in resignation, "It's not like I've had time to throw away any of your junk anyway. This is the first day of the earth week where no one had intruded in my medbay with an injury. It took forever to fix those lugnuts after the Autobot battle, and then Dirge got his helm stuck in the wall after a fight with Brawl. Why was I even called for that? Dirge doesn't need a medic, he needs a psychiatrist and a lawyer."

Before Scavenger could reply to his brother's latest tirade there was a swoosh indicating the doors opened, and Hook sighed knowing it was going to be someone else that needed his expertise. Typical.

Hook entered the room to see three of the Stunticons in the medbay. Motormaster and Wildrider were loudly arguing about something while Breakdown cowered in the corner trying to avoid the inevitable punches that would follow their screaming match. It would've been sad if they were anybody else, but from Megatron's latest failed combiner experiment it was expected.

"What do you clowns want?" Hook asked impatiently as he put a hand on his hip and tapped his pede.

"My chronometer's busted!" Motormaster bellowed, "Wildrider rammed into me in his alt mode and my helm banged into the wall! Now I can't tell what time it is!"

"Who cares? You don't have anywhere to go," Wildrider sneered, "Besides, you missed the point. Because you were in my way Drag Strip won our race, and now I'll never hear the end of it!"

"You'll never hear _again_ if you don't shut up and get outta my face, slag pile!" Motormaster snapped at Wildrider, "Now get out! You'll just make whatever this is worse."

"But you're letting Breakdown stay!" Wildrider argued.

"Breakdown didn't try to kill me a few minutes ago!" Motormaster boomed, "I said get out now!"

"You actually said _now get out,_ " Wildrider corrected him.

" _Rarargh_!" Motormaster screamed incoherently as his servos formed claws in frustration.

Wildrider got the message (finally) and ran from the medbay. Hook could do nothing but watch the idiotic display. Once Wildrider was gone, Hook felt he could finally do something about Motormaster's blasted chronometer. He didn't want to fix it since it wasn't vital, but since Megatron built the Stunticons he insisted they be given the best care possible. Some would call it caring, but Hook just called it vanity.

"Alright Motormaster, sit on the berth and I'll X-Ray your helm," Hook instructed.

"X-Ray? You mean like that Godzilla monster on TV?" Breakdown asked nervously, "Won't that just make Motormaster bigger and scarier?"

"Hey, I like the sound of that," Motormaster smiled approvingly.

Hook sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose cone in exasperation.

"No, it won't," Hook explained as if he were speaking to sparklings, "That wasn't an X-Ray, that was radiation, and radiation doesn't actually have that effect on the organic body anyway. Also, and I can't stress this enough, _you're not organics_!"

"Yeesh, what crawled up your tailpipe and died?" Motormaster huffed, "Will this X-rated thing fix my fragging head clock or not?"

"No, the X-Ray is for examining your helm," Hook growled, beginning to lose patience with his patient, "Now stop talking so I can get a clear picture!"

Hook then activated the X-Ray and the half circle apparatus spun around Motormaster's helm with a loud whirring noise. Motormaster didn't move, but Breakdown carefully approached the device to stare at it. If Breakdown touched that thing and broke it Hook swore in his mind he would sever the Stunticon's vocalizer and never repair it again. Then no one would have to hear Breakdown complain ever again. After all, who else would be around to fix him?

The machine pinged a moment later to indicate it was finished, and Hook displayed the X-Ray on his computer. He examined the damaged area carefully on the screen, but then felt someone venting down his neck cables. He turned his helm slightly to see who was invading his personal space, only to see Breakdown staring at the screen nervously.

"What are you doing?" Hook asked.

" _Aaahh_!" Breakdown screamed and clutched his chassis at being startled by Hook, "I-I-I-I'm sorry, sir. I just...you can take p-pictures of our insides w-whenever you want?"

"Oh, brother," Hook muttered to himself, but then in a normal tone of voice said, "Not whenever I want. The patient has to be in the room with me and has to hold still so I can scan him. Now, get out of my way so I can figure out how to most efficiently repair your slagging gestalt leader."

"How does it work?" Breakdown asked.

"How does what work?" Hook replied impatiently.

"The X-Ray machine," Breakdown clarified, "Is it complicated?"

"Yes," Hook replied flatly, in no mood to deal with the younger mech's questions.

"Will the surgery be complicated?" Breakdown inquired.

"With you crowding me? Yes," Hook snapped, tired of trying to be subtle with the Stunticon.

"I just ask because Motormaster is in a hurry, and if he gets upset I'm the closest available target," Breakdown explained sheepishly, "I get tired of getting beat up is all. If I could leave the room though, that would be great."

"Why haven't you left already?" Hook asked rudely.

"Because if Motormaster goes in attack mode I can't let him attack you," Breakdown explained, "You're our only medic. We need you."

"Well, I..." Hook didn't know quite what to say to that. He had been rude and churlish with the young 'Con, but as it turned out Breakdown was there for his protection. He felt like a heel, but he didn't know exactly what to say, so he said, "...Well, you're the first one to acknowledge my contributions in quite some time. It's amazing how quickly most mechs forget how I saved their lives once they've recovered."

"Have you ever killed anyone that made you mad?" Breakdown asked curiously, "I mean, they're pretty much helpless in your medbay, completely in your power. I know I wouldn't wanna be in here after making you mad."

"Hey Doc! My chronometer!?" Motormaster shouted petulantly from his berth.

Breakdown went over to talk to Motormaster while Hook read the X-Ray and determined the best point of entry into Motormaster's thick skull. Breakdown's words about not wanting to make Hook angry made the Constructicon realize something. He had only repaired Breakdown twice since the newer 'Con came online, and both times he was passed out cold. After being repaired Breakdown would leave without saying a word to anyone, as if he were being pursued by someone in the medbay. He never volunteered himself to be repaired, even though he was regularly beaten by his brothers.

Hook went over to Motormaster and sedated him. He began the simple task of fixing the broken chronometer, aware the entire time that Breakdown was watching his every move. The paranoid Stunticon was likely trying to ensure his brother wouldn't be subjected to anything devious or have a spy camera installed in his helm or something. Hook had so many patients to tend to that he never realized Breakdown was receiving an utter lack of medical care due to his own paranoid delusions about being watched or everyone being against him. That could become a liability down the road, which would only make Menasor's performance worse than it already was.

"Hey, Doc?" Breakdown addressed Hook while the Constructicon was reconnecting wires in Motormaster's helm, "Is that motherboard supposed to be flashing?"

"No, and it will stop once I reattach these wires and use this stylus to reset the chronometer's time," Hook replied as he continued to work.

"That tiny black hole is the reset, right?" Breakdown asked as he leaned in to watch.

"Very astute, Breakdown," Hook commented sincerely.

"Really?" Breakdown asked, surprised anyone would compliment him on something, "So wait, does that mean those tiny green and red buttons are the joor and breem buttons?"

"Yes, actually," Hook replied; mildly impressed, "Can you locate the vorn button?"

"Um...The blue one?" Breakdown asked uncertainly.

"Correct," Hook replied, and Breakdown beamed, "So now you know how the chronometer works. Can you locate the processor in Motormaster's helm?"

"Wait, you mean he has one?" Breakdown joked, and Hook laughed heartily, "Seriously though, that entire area you're working around is the processor."

"That's correct," Hook replied, "I'm surprised you figured that out."

"I bought a data pad from Swindle that discusses the processor and the different ways it can malfunction," Breakdown explained, "I, um, I wanted to, um..."

"Wanted to what?" Hook asked curiously as he set Motormaster's helm for every time zone on earth at once.

"Well sir, everyone says my brothers and I are crazy," Breakdown explained, "I thought, I dunno, that if I knew how our processors worked I could fix us. Turns out though that the data pad wasn't even that helpful. Apparently none of our malfunctions even exist on Cybertron. On Cybertron they talk about untreated damage, but not about creation defects. I especially wish I could help Wildrider and Dead End. Wildrider doesn't even live in reality half the time, and I'm pretty sure Dead End might kill himself someday just to see what it feels like. They scare me. Everything scares me, but I feel like if I could control some of the problems in my life, on this ship, that maybe I would be okay."

Hook continued to work, but he listened intently. An idea was forming in his processor as Breakdown bemoaned his problems, but Hook feared this was an idea that could backfire. Breakdown wasn't exactly a stable mech by anyone's definition, but he also posed the least danger of his brothers to Hook's safety. He was also a fast learner with an enthusiasm for safety and the internal workings of the processor. Breakdown was young and impressionable, with no reliable role models in his life. He could be perfect for Hook's needs.

"I know how it feels to not have control over your life," Hook told Breakdown, "We Constructicons have seen a lot of the darker sides of Cybertronian existence. One thing we do to keep ourselves occupied and sane is to build. For myself however, building inanimate objects is not enough. I needed a job that I felt I could truly master."

"What job was that?" Breakdown asked obliviously, and then noticed that flat stare Hook was giving him through his red visor, "Ah! Don't look at me like that! I don't know what I said but I'm sorry! Don't kill me!"

"Breakdown, control yourself!" Hook snapped, and Breakdown whimpered, "What I meant was that I became a medic to have a job that required precision and speed. In this medbay I am the master, and everyone from the lowliest drone to Megatron himself must listen to me. The life of a medic is a difficult one, but it is also one of the safest jobs on the ship. My life takes priority because I not only help to form Devastator, but I also am the only one capable of pulling the gravely wounded from the brink of death."

"Wow, that sounds amazing," Breakdown replied wistfully.

"Do you want that kind of power, Breakdown?" Hook asked intently.

Breakdown gasped, caught off guard by Hook's suddenly question.

"Um, uh, yeah. Sure. I guess so," Breakdown stammered, "But I'm not a medic."

"Not yet," Hook replied conspiratorially, "But you could be the next best thing. My apprentice."

"What's a printis?" Breakdown asked in confusion.

"An _apprentice_ is someone who trains under a skilled professional to perform jobs for them, all in the hopes of someday doing the same job as their boss," Hook explained, "As my apprentice you would learn the ways of a medic from me, and in exchange you would assist me around the medbay, gaining valuable life experience and knowledge along the way."

"You want me to work for you?" Breakdown asked incredulously, "But we're from different combiners. We never hang out together. Besides, I'm stupid. Why would you want a stupid printis when you could have a Constructicon work for you?"

"We won't do it!" Scavenger shouted from behind his curtained-off room, "Medic work is boring!"

"You stare at rocks and ancient garbage all day!" Hook shouted back at his obstinate brother, "Honestly Breakdown, that's why I don't work with them. They don't understand the finesse and talent required to be a medic. If I taught one of my combiner kin, they wouldn't appreciate it or absorb it properly. I see something in you. You have a curiosity and willingness to learn that is sadly lacking in the modern Decepticon. So, what do you say? Do you want to learn the skills of a medic?"

Breakdown couldn't respond at first. He just stared at Hook, wondering if this was some sort of cruel joke that Motormaster had put Hook up to. Good things didn't happen to Breakdown, and other mechs didn't want to work with Breakdown. He had been yelled at so many times for screwing up a mission, freezing at a critical moment, or just mispronouncing a word. Then again, if Hook was serious it could change everything. Breakdown could be safe, he could contribute to the Decepticon cause, and maybe even someday help his brothers.

Smiling, Breakdown held out his servo for the human custom of shaking hands on a deal, and said "I'll do it."


	3. Permission Slip Up

_Author's Notes: Hi everybody! Thank you to everyone who has read this story so far, and a big thanks to those who have left reviews. It is so cool to see that this offbeat story idea is being positively received. I love writing both Hook and Breakdown because I feel like their personalities make for an interesting contrast. Hook is stuffy and professional, and Breakdown is paranoid and wears his spark on his sleeve. I don't really know where this story is going, but I'm going to enjoy the ride and hope you do too. Please review, favorite, and follow this story if you are enjoying it :)_

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Chapter 3

Permission Slip Up

Dead End was sitting next to the porthole in the Stunticon common area reading a data pad containing among other things a book about human inventor Nikola Tesla. Dead End found it both fascinating and fitting that despite how brilliant the man was purported to be that he still died a relatively young miserable financially ruined failure. Dead End was certain this would likewise be his fate as a member of the Decepticon army. It somehow made him feel better to know others were as miserable as he was.

Dead End heard the door to the common area open and knew it would be Breakdown. Motormaster had come back a few hours prior and Wildrider and Drag Strip were out racing and wouldn't be back until late. That only left Breakdown.

At first Dead End didn't even look up from his ebook to greet his brother, but then he heard a loud scraping noise as Breakdown slowly walked, and was curious as to what was going on. When Dead End lifted his helm he saw Breakdown dragging a blank protoform across the room; leaving skid marks on the purple metal floor. Dead End, always looking for something new to distract him from the banality of life, decided to investigate.

"What are you doing, Breakdown?" Dead End asked as he approached his brother.

"Ah!" Breakdown yelped; startled, "Oh, uh, hi Dead End. I'm just taking this thing to my room. Nothing to see here."

"Why?" Dead End asked.

"No reason," Breakdown replied evasively.

"If this is about interfacing Drag Strip keeps some Corvette magazines under his berth," Dead End offered casually, "If you're more into planes I think Skywarp has some issues of Modern Pilot Magazine."

Breakdown dropped the protoform, mortified, and stuttered for a few seconds before he could form a coherent thought.

"It it, it's not that!" Breakdown shouted defensively, "I'm just going to take it apart and see if I can put it back together again!"

"That sounds like an utter waste of time," Dead End remarked, "Is this a new creative punishment Megatron is trying out? What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything!" Breakdown snapped as he crossed his arms and stomped his pede, "Hook told me to do it. I'm his printis."

"You're his what now?" Dead End asked in confusion.

"Printis. It means I work for him," Breakdown declared proudly, "I'm gonna be a medic someday."

"Oh, you mean _apprentice_ ," Dead End replied in understanding, "I see. Well then, you might as well give that thing back to him. You'll never be able to learn medicine, and there's no sense wasting a perfectly good protoform. Who knows when Megatron might need it to create another useless soldier? Might as well give up now and go lift some weights or something."

"No way!" Breakdown barked defiantly, "I promised Hook I'd do it. Besides, he says he sees something in me. He thinks I'll be a great medic someday. No one's ever believed in me before, so I'm not gonna let him down. I'll work hard, study my aft off, and finally have a job that's safe that I can be proud of."

"Trying to preserve your life and the lives of our ungrateful colleagues. What a waste," Dead End shook his helm disapprovingly, "Besides, you're Motormaster's peon same as I am. If you try to shirk your duties to go put bandaids on booboos then he'll kick your tailpipe from here to The Pit."

Breakdown gulped, not having thought about Motormaster. He would have to get his gestalt leader's approval, but he didn't know how to convince Motormaster to let him work for Hook. Hook wasn't even the leader of his gestalt, so Breakdown would be an underling working for an underling. That would be unacceptable to someone as proud as Motormaster.

"Dead End, you can't tell Motormaster I'm doing this!" Breakdown exclaimed hurriedly as he grabbed his brother's arms, "I mean it! You can't tell him, or anyone else!"

"The next time he breaks a strut he'll find out," Dead End pointed out.

"Let me worry about that," Breakdown replied, "Just promise me you won't tell him! Promise!"

"What's in it for me?" Dead End asked point blank.

"Uh..." Breakdown thought for a moment before he said, "I'll let you help me disassemble the protoform. I'll even let you keep the shell."

"Deal," Dead End replied immediately.

Breakdown smiled and they shook servos on the deal. For whatever reason Hook hadn't understood what a handshake was at first, which reminded Breakdown of just how different he and his brothers truly were on this ship. They were built from earth vehicles and had lived on earth for their entire short lives. Human customs and traditions were more familiar to them than Cybertronian history and culture. Breakdown wondered if that was one reason why so many other Decepticons didn't like them.

"I think I'll call her Lucille," Dead End suddenly said once they were in Breakdown's room.

"Who?" Breakdown asked.

"The Protoform," Dead End replied, "She looks like a Lucille."

Breakdown shuddered and turned his helm back to their subject. He and Dead End began to take the Protoform apart, all the while Breakdown tried to memorize what everything was and where it went. He also fantasized about one day developing a cure for whatever weird defect afflicted Dead End.

* * *

Hook and Scrapper went up to the control room where Megatron was stationed with his command staff. Hook wouldn't be allowed to have Breakdown as an assistant until he obtained approval from Megatron, and since Scrapper was the gestalt leader he would have to ask. Scrapper, thankfully, didn't get on Hook's case when he found out about the crane-former's idea to have a Stunticon work with him, though only time would tell if the other Constructicons would be so open-minded.

Hook normally didn't feel emotions akin to nervousness. A firm servo and a calm processor were both necessities to him as a medic. When that door swooshed open to reveal every set of optics staring at them in annoyance however it made Hook feel a little more wary than usual. He was glad he didn't have to do this alone.

"What do you two bozos want?" Starscream snapped obstinately, "We're in the middle of something!"

"Silence, Starscream," Megatron ordered his mouthy second in command, "Scrapper, this had better be important."

"Well, Lord Megatron," Scrapper began uneasily, "I would like to request permission for my gestalt kin Hook to have a medical apprentice."

"We don't have any more medics on this ship!" Starscream barked irritably, "Now leave!"

"Starscream!" Megatron snapped at his SIC, and Starscream flinched, "Now, Starscream is right. There are no other qualified Decepticons on board this ship."

"If I was right then why did you yell at me?" Starscream whined.

Skywarp and Thundercracker, who were also in the room, started laughing at their petulant air commander. Starscream glared at them, but it didn't make the laughing stop. If anything it only made it worse.

"Sir, we know that no one is qualified yet," Scrapper continued undeterred, "However, one of our soldiers has expressed interest in learning about the medical field and wants to be trained under Hook."

"Oh scrap, it isn't Vortex is it?" Skywarp asked nervously.

"No," Scrapper replied to Skywarp, though he sounded as if he didn't want to, "We would like permission for Hook to train Breakdown to be a medic."

Megatron raised a brow ridge quizzically, and Skywarp and Thundercracker started laughing all over again.

"Hahaha! _Breakdown_!?" Skywarp gasped in between fits of laughter, "You picked the stupidest mech from the stupidest combiner on the ship? BWAHAHAHAHA!"

"He'll probably see some energon squirt out of a wound and hide under the counter!" Thundercracker added in between his own laughter.

"Oh _help me! Help me!_ The stethoscope is watching me!" Skywarp mimicked Breakdown with a high pitched girly voice.

"That's enough!" Hook shouted abruptly, this being the first time he said anything since entering the room, "I know I trust Breakdown in the operating room more than you winged clowns! He actually _wants_ to learn and _wants_ to heal, which is more than I can say for the rest of you. How does Lord Megatron tolerate your idiocy?"

"Why you-!" Skywarp started to stomp toward Hook, but Thundercracker stopped him.

"Don't, Warp. It isn't worth it," Thundercracker replied; suddenly serious.

Skywarp snorted in derision but stayed where he was. Hook couldn't help but smirk at the fact that Skywarp looked like a chained Cyberhound unable to chase a turbo rat that had wandered onto his yard.

"So, you want permission to make Breakdown a medic in training?" Megatron pondered, "That would take away from his combat training, and I need him to be able to form Menasor with his gestalt kin."

"My duties have never interfered with Devastator, sir," Hook pointed out, "Once a gestalt leader calls for the change, there is nothing that can be done. Breakdown will still be of use to you in battle, but if he works with me he will also be useful in getting more soldiers ready to take on the Autobots again."

Megatron put his finger on his chin and thought about the request for a moment. The other members of the command staff thought the idea was ridiculous, but Hook knew this could be vital for the Decepticon cause. He worried that Megatron would refuse however, since the warlord wasn't exactly known for caring about the scientific pursuits or putting any effort toward caring for others rather than using them.

Finally, Megatron looked at Scrapper and Hook and said "Fine. You may train Breakdown on a trial basis. If he causes you problems, you have my permission to punish him as you see fit. Just ensure that he does not miss his combat training and continues to serve Menasor."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir," Hook replied formally.

"Oh, and I would also like to report that the new base will be ready on schedule," Scrapper added, "Thank you for your time, Lord Megatron."

"Fine, fine," Megatron waved them away, "You are dismissed."

Scrapper and Hook bowed slightly toward Megatron before leaving out the same door they came through. Once they were out in the hall both Constructicons exhaled a vent of relief.

"That went better than expected," Scrapper told Hook, "I gotta say though, the seekers, bratty as they are, do have a point. Breakdown _is_ kind of an idiot. He also doesn't really have the right temperament to be a good medic."

"What is the right temperament?" Hook asked rhetorically, "Wheeljack of the Autobots qualifies as a brilliant medic and engineer, yet he also tests his inventions on himself and frequently causes explosions. Ratchet, if our intelligence reports are accurate, will actually _beat_ his own patients with a wrench before operating on them. Tell me that isn't psychotic! All I'm saying is if they are good enough to be trusted to operate on their own Prime, then surely Breakdown is good enough to staple Starscream's aft back together after his millionth failed coup attempt."

"Fair enough," Scrapper shrugged, "Just don't let Breakdown work on anybody important. If Megatron wakes up to Breakdown screaming because he saw Megatron's onlined optics then we'll all be in trouble."

Hook chuckled along with Scrapper at that thought. The easy part was now over. He was now allowed to work with Breakdown. The hard part would soon begin; actually training the skittish brute to become a calm, professional, caring medic.

* * *

Breakdown showed up at the medbay around 10:00 hours the next morning. Hook had wanted him to be there by 8:00 hours, but Breakdown had to work on his defensive moves with Motormaster and Drag Strip before he was able to work with Hook. When Motormaster had asked Breakdown where he was going after their session was over, Breakdown of course lied and said Megatron had ordered him to scrape barnacles off the hull. That had been a close one, and now Breakdown was looking forward to his first official day of medic training.

"Good orn, Breakdown," Hook greeted him genially while sorting a tool cabinet; his back turned to the Stunticon, "Did you catalogue and reassemble the protoform?"

"Yes, sir," Breakdown replied, "I brought my full report. I stayed up all night working on it."

"Very good," Hook said as he turned around to face Breakdown, "Now hand over the- Um, Breakdown? Where is the cadaver?"

"The what?" Breakdown asked obliviously.

"The _protoform_ ," Hook ground out irritably, "Where is your homework?"

"Oh," Breakdown replied guiltily, "I, uh, I wrote everything down and recorded the autonomy, but I-"

"The what?" Hook interrupted him.

"The autonomy. You know, taking everything apart and looking for something wrong," Breakdown explained.

"You mean the _autopsy_ ," Hook corrected him, "That wasn't what I asked you, however. I asked you where the protoform is. Now, where is it?"

"Um...Dead-End-has-it," Breakdown muttered quickly under his breath.

"Excuse me?" Hook chided.

"I said Dead End has it!" Breakdown shouted too loudly, "I had to give it to him so he wouldn't tell Motormaster I'm working with you. I can't get it back."

"Motormaster doesn't know you're here?" Hook asked, and Breakdown nodded sheepishly, "Breakdown, you have to tell your gestalt leader what you're doing. I cleared everything with Scrapper and Megatron, so you should inform Motormaster of your new assignment."

"He can't know I'm here!" Breakdown exclaimed in a panic, "Motormaster would never let me do this! He can't know I wanna be a medic! Don't tell him, please!"

"Megatron has already authorized it, so there's nothing Motormaster can do to stop you," Hook pointed out.

"He could break my legs," Breakdown retorted, "You don't get it, Doc. Motormaster thinks we're the best combiner Megatron has. I know it isn't true, but that's what he thinks. Me wanting to work with another team would be seen as a challenge to his power. He especially hates Devastator. Megatron treats you guys like the strongest combiner around, and Motormaster hates that. I have to keep this a secret, sir. I promise I'll work hard though. It'll be worth it, you'll see."

Hook sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose cone in exasperation. He knew it was pointless to try to hide Breakdown's new position as his apprentice from Motormaster. Everyone else on the ship knew Breakdown was going to work here, and eventually Motormaster would know too. At the same time though, Breakdown looked so pitiful and nervous that it was hard to pull the rug out from under him. Hook acted aloof and haughty in front of the other Decepticons because he had a reputation to uphold as a force to be reckoned with, but at spark he cared about those he called his patients, and he understood that Breakdown was too young to have the responsibilities and worries that he had.

"Alright Breakdown," Hook sighed wearily, "For the moment, I suppose we can forgo telling Motormaster about your apprenticeship. Now, show me your report."

Breakdown heaved a huge sigh of relief before handing Hook the data pad containing his notes about the dissected protoform. Hook looked over Breakdown's work and noted several mistakes. It was a pretty decent first try, but Breakdown was still a long way from being more of an asset than a liability in the medbay. Hook realized training Breakdown would be hard, in more ways than one, but seeing how much Breakdown was risking just to be there made Hook want to encourage and teach him even more.


	4. The Coil

_Author's Notes: Hi everyone, and welcome back to the story! I think this is the most consistent I've been with updating a fic in quite some time, which surprises me since this was never meant to be a grand project. I suppose keeping things casual with this fic has been helpful for making me want to write it. I've had a lot of fun with this story thus far, and I feel like there are so many directions it can go in. Also, I would like to thank **Impressionsguy** for helping me come up with the first part of this story describing Breakdown's first official day of work. Hope you all enjoy reading, and please review :)_

* * *

Chapter 4

The Coil

Breakdown rushed down the halls after his combat training with the other Stunticons to get to the medbay for his second day of work. He had mostly gone over his cadaver report and talked shop with Hook the day before, but on this day he would be expected to help Hook with patients, so he needed to know what he was doing.

When Breakdown got to the medbay he noticed that the massive room was empty. Scavenger had been discharged from his curtained-off part of the room, and Hook was nowhere to be seen. Breakdown smiled in relief, realizing he was early. He decided to pull out his data pad and look over the information one more time so he wouldn't look like an idiot on his first day.

"Alright, let's see where we left off," Breakdown muttered to himself as he sat down on a berth with the data pad, "According to this, 'The cause of death appeared to be a heart attack, and he was only discovered after the cleaning lady barged into his apartment despite the 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the door.' Huh, this must be a scenario puzzle. Let's see, uh...'The FBI raided his home after death in the hopes of discovering plans for a death ray. He was 86 years old.' Wow! That's young. Poor sparkling. Wait a minute, isn't a heart a human organ, like the mucus tube or something? Why am I- Aw, scrap! This is Dead End's book on Nikola Tesla!"

Breakdown facepalmed when he realized he had grabbed the wrong book from the Stunticon common area. That meant Dead End was probably rifling through his medical textbook at that moment. If he was lucky his brothers wouldn't delete his files just to annoy him.

Just then the doors opened and Breakdown nervously turned around to greet his new boss, only to see that it wasn't Hook at all. Skywarp had come into medbay clutching his neck cables and looked around for the medic. This could only end badly.

"What are you doing here, Skywarp?" Breakdown asked, and then realized he might have sounded rude, "Uh, not that I mind that you're here! I mean, you're my superior officer, so you can be wherever you want, right? Heh heh..."

Skywarp opened his mouth to say something, but the noise that came out was a strange bouncing static, like a glitching sound effect in a video game. Breakdown cringed at the odd sound, and then Skywarp helplessly pointed to his neck cables.

"Is something stuck down there?" Breakdown guessed.

Skywarp nodded rapidly and sat down on the berth quickly, expecting the young apprentice to help him. Breakdown winced when he saw Skywarp lay down; knowing he wasn't ready to work with a real patient without Hook yet.

"You're gonna have to wait," Breakdown told him, "Hook should be here soon."

Skywarp tried to protest, but all that came out was that same skipping static noise. Breakdown didn't know what to do, and Skywarp was looking at him. He hated it so much when mechs looked at him. He always feared they were plotting against him, or were about to get mad at him, or were secretly readying themselves to steal his soul. He didn't know if mechs had souls, but if they did he wanted to keep his where it was thank you very much.

"What do you _want_ from me?" Breakdown whined helplessly.

Skywarp forcefully pointed to his neck cables again, and looked annoyedly at Breakdown. Clearly Skywarp wanted to be fixed and he wanted it right now. Breakdown knew this was a terrible idea, but he didn't want Skywarp teleporting into his room to steal his mech-soul, so he cautiously approached the mute seeker.

"Okay, so how did Dead End and I get to Lucille's vocalizer?" Breakdown asked himself, and Skywarp shot him a quizzical look, "Stop staring at me!" Breakdown yelled before continuing his train of thought, "Okay, we clamped the cables on either side and used a small laser scalpel to open the tracheal tube. Okay Skywarp, I know what to do. Just hold still."

Breakdown then rummaged through Hook's tools trying to determine which laser scalpel would be the best one for the job. He settled on one that was kind of large but not so huge that it would scare his patient. Then again given how annoying Skywarp was, Breakdown wondered if it would be okay to use a large butcher knife just this once. He shrugged and decided against it, however.

Breakdown leaned in close to Skywarp to concentrate on where he would make the incision, and then he began to cut at the metal tube shielding his vocalizer and intake systems. Skywarp felt the hot tip of the blade and intense pain shot through his body. He bolted upright, knocking Breakdown in the face in the process and causing the Stunticon to drop the scalpel; which skidded under some cabinets.

"Hey! I said hold still!" Breakdown snapped at Skywarp.

Skywarp tried to yell at Breakdown, but it still came out as glitching squeaking static. It would've been funny if Breakdown wasn't worried about losing one of his boss's tools. Breakdown knelt down to try to retrieve the scalpel while Skywarp yelled at the inept Stunticon in static language.

Hook came into the medbay just in time to see Breakdown reaching under the cabinets and Skywarp squeak-yelling at him from across the room. Hook didn't know what this meant, but judging from the clamps still holding Skywarp's neck cables in place it could not be good.

"Breakdown!" Hook shouted, and Breakdown screamed and jumped up on his feet, "Breakdown, what is going on here?"

"Um, uh, you weren't here sir, and uh, uh, Skywarp, he needed help, and uh..." Breakdown stuttered nervously, "...Skywarp made me do it!"

Skywarp tried to deny it, but he still didn't have his voice back.

"I've heard of the devil making you do something, but this is the most literal example I have ever heard," Hook sighed, "Breakdown, wash the handle of that scalpel and then observe as I operate on this teleporting buffoon. If I ever catch you circumventing my authority again you will be forced to give sponge baths to the other Constructicons for a year. Do I make myself clear?"

"Ew," Breakdown replied in disgust, "Oh, uh, I mean, yes sir. Crystal clear, sir."

"Don't mention the word _crystal_ in this medbay, soldier. Oh, and wash your servos as well as that scalpel," Hook ordered.

"Yes sir. Right away sir," Breakdown replied while he walked quickly toward the sink.

Hook then led Skywarp back to the berth, and while the seeker was reluctant at first he did as he was told once Hook assured him that Breakdown would not perform the actual surgery. Skywarp accepted that answer and obeyed. Breakdown returned to Hook's side, and Hook explained where Breakdown went wrong.

"Alright my blue brutish pupil, first of all you must restrain the patient," Hook explained in an even tone as he activated energy cuffs for Skywarp's wrists and ankle joints.

Skywarp screamed a static-filled scream as he struggled to break free, but Hook didn't even act like he noticed.

"Next thing you do is administer a painkiller to the patient through their IV," Hook continued his lesson, "Part of our job is to alleviate the pain of our patients. Of course this only applies to Decepticon patients and not Autobot prisoners. Are you with me so far?"

"Yes, sir," Breakdown nodded, "Sorry I didn't do that, sir. Lucille didn't need pain killers, sir."

Hook arched a brow ridge at that comment, but then decided he didn't need to know. He continued the operation by waiting for the painkillers to take effect and then carefully making the same incision Breakdown tried to make. Breakdown carefully watched every move Hook made, and hoped Hook didn't mind the way he hovered over his shoulder. Once Hook peeled away the layer of metal shielding the area he immediately found the problem with Skywarp's vocalizer, and frankly even Breakdown would've been able to see this one.

"Is that a spring?" Breakdown asked incredulously, "What kind of moron swallows _a spring_?"

"It appears to be from a human's mattress," Hook noted dispassionately, "Now, do you know the best way to remove this from the speaker area of a vocalizer?"

"Um...Use your digits to hold back the mesh and then slowly uncoil the object in a twisting motion to remove the offending screw?" Breakdown replied uncertainly.

"Screw? Let me guess, you're quoting your textbook?" Hook surmised.

"Yeah," Breakdown replied sheepishly, "Hey, better my textbook than Dead End's. Otherwise I would've waited for Skywarp to die and then broke into his room to steal his death ray."

"His what?" Hook asked; puzzled, "Oh, never mind. Just watch what I do."

Hook then slowly twisted the coiled spring out of Skywarp's vocal mesh, and when the pointed tip got hung on the sensitive area Hook rubbed a little grease on his digits to make the object come out in a smoother manner. Once the spring was out there remained a small hole, which Hook had to fix using aluminum thread for stitches.

"Wow, you made that look so easy," Breakdown said in awe, "I could never be that calm when looking at something that gross."

"Maybe not now, but you will be comfortable with the process someday," Hook assured his pupil, "For now just gather as much information as you can, and don't try to do this on your own just yet."

"I won't. I promise," Breakdown replied sincerely.

Once Hook was finished with the procedure he welded Skywarp's tracheal tube back together and put his neck cables back where they belonged. Hook then deactivated the restraints holding back the flighty seeker. Skywarp got up from the berth and rubbed the area Hook had just fixed, then smiled approvingly.

"Thanks, Doc," Skywarp said; grateful to be able to speak, "Well, gotta run."

"Wait a breem," Hook ordered dryly, "Skywarp, how did you get a spring stuck in your vocalizer?"

"Rumble dared me to eat it, along with some other stuff we found at a junkyard," Skywarp replied casually, "I made 50 credits."

"Get back on the berth," Hook demanded in a longsuffering tone of voice.

"What? But _why_?" Skywarp whined.

"Because if you ate more metallic objects then your tank won't be able to digest them and they will sit in your system until they rust, which will make you very sick," Hook explained, "Trust me, I know. Scavenger has eaten some things that would make you purge your fuel tanks. Now, on the berth!"

"Yes, _carrier_ ," Skywarp replied mockingly, but did as he was told.

"You're gonna open his fuel tanks?" Breakdown asked apprehensively.

"Don't worry, Breakdown. This procedure doesn't require any welds," Hook assured his protege, "I simply unlock the mechanism on Skywarp's cockpit that allows me to remove it from the floorboards to the roof. Once it's off I'll have access to his inner workings, including his fuel tank. I simply remove it, empty it of all contents, and then put it back inside his body. It's a job that requires heavy lifting but no surgical precision. In fact, this might be something you can help me with."

"Don't let him help!" Skywarp protested, "He almost killed me!"

"He gave you a booboo," Hook dismissed Skywarp's claims, "Breakdown is still learning, and if you want to avoid an infected tank you will lay still and allow us to do our jobs."

Skywarp grumbled but had little recourse. Hook was the only real medic on the ship, and if Hook wanted his intern sticking around and hauling his cockpit like a mule then Skywarp couldn't do anything about it.

Hook used a small wand with a red light at the end to get Skywarp's cockpit loose. Breakdown tried to remember the technical term for it, but he couldn't. He could only remember it held some sort of medic's override code that allowed them to access high security areas in a mech's body. Breakdown knew that was an incredible responsibility, but it still made him fear Hook. After all, he _literally_ had the keys to every Decepticon on the ship. What if Hook used that power for evil?

Once the cockpit was loose Breakdown was ordered to carry it to the other side of the room, which he did without hesitation. He was just glad to be useful so that maybe Hook would forget he screwed up. Once Breakdown returned he could see that Hook was already lifting a large metal cube out of Skywarp's body.

"Is that his tank?" Breakdown asked.

"You tell me," Hook replied knowingly, "You removed one of these from your protoform, didn't you?"

"Oh yeah," Breakdown smiled as recognition hit him, "Yeah, that is the tank. How are you gonna get the stuff out?"

"Simplicity itself," Hook replied confidently.

Hook then showed Breakdown a closed-off hole with a sliding door on the upper side of the fuel tank. This was where the feeding tube would connect Skywarp's fuel intakes to his tank. Hook used his wand to open the little sliding door and then dumped the offending small objects out of Skywarp's tank and into the sink. Once the task was complete, Hook reattached the tank and ordered Breakdown to bring him back the cockpit.

"That was really fast," Breakdown commented.

"It all comes with experience," Hook replied, "And Skywarp. I expect you to stop taking dares from Soundwave's brats."

"But it was 50 credits!" Skywarp argued.

"Yes, 50 credits, which I will expect from you," Hook replied impishly, "You forced me and my apprentice to waste our time on you. I expect full compensation. I'm keeping the things you swallowed and I want those credits."

"Yeah right, you can't make me," Skywarp scoffed.

"I can't, but Devastator can," Hook blackmailed the haughty seeker.

"Oh, alright!" Skywarp snapped as he went through his subspace to find the credits, "Here, take 'em. Con artist."

" _Decepti_ con artist," Hook proclaimed proudly, "Oh, and I do hope to not have to see your aft in here again anytime soon."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Skywarp grumbled as he left the room.

Breakdown couldn't help but laugh at seeing the purple and black seeker walk away with his metaphorical tailpipe between his legs. Even though Hook scared Breakdown as much as Motormaster and Megatron, he had to admit that working with Hook was more fun than he expected. The older 'Con seemed eager to teach and grateful for Breakdown's help. He didn't get that from anyone else, and for once in his life Breakdown felt good about his work.

"Help me clean up this berth Skywarp was on," Hook ordered Breakdown, "We have to sterilize the berths whenever there is a lull in our patient traffic. The cleaning fluids are in that cabinet over there on the top shelf."

"Why are they up so high?" Breakdown asked curiously.

"Mixmaster," Hook replied as if that explained everything.

Breakdown didn't know much about Mixmaster, but he heard people say that the Constructicon chemist was rather mad. Actually, when Breakdown thought about Mixmaster's personality, it kind of reminded him of his own brother; Wildrider. He wondered if Hook had to deal with psychotic outbursts from his brothers the way Breakdown did with Motormaster and Wildrider.

"What was Mixmaster like when he was new?" Breakdown suddenly asked while they were cleaning.

"New?" Hook asked in confusion.

"Yeah, like, new. Like my brothers and me," Breakdown clarified.

"I didn't know him then," Hook told him, "My gestalt brothers and I weren't like you and your gestalt. We met as adults when we all applied to the same construction team on Cybertron, and we didn't become Devastator until we joined Megatron and became Shockwave's first experimental combiner unit. Decepticons invented combining and Autobots stole our idea. Never forget that."

"I won't," Breakdown replied, "So, you weren't always with your brothers. What was your life like before that? I don't know much about Cybertron, and anything you can tell me about living there would be cool."

"Well, to give you as short a version of my life story as possible," Hook began, "I was born in the city of Altihex to an aristocratic family from the medical caste. In my time only certain mechs and femmes were even allowed to work in the medical field, and we were paid quite handsomely to do so. I was a socially isolated sparkling and focused most of my life on books. I enjoyed learning about politics, medicine, and architecture. I was close with my carrier and respected my sire, but that all changed in my adult life when I decided to change careers. You see Breakdown, despite my family's wealth and status, Altihex was a city comprised of mostly poor working caste mechs and femmes. Even after I became a medic I saw how they struggled, and though I offered a discounted price for my services I felt that I could do more. Then the earthquake happened."

"Earthquake?" Breakdown asked nervously, "Was everyone okay?"

"No, sadly not," Hook replied, "There were quite a few deaths, but more than that there were hundreds that were displaced from their homes. When I volunteered to donate replacement limbs as well as my services as a surgeon, I met the construction crews that worked on rebuilding the city. That was when my passion for architecture was reignited, and I decided to switch careers from medicine to construction. My creators never forgave me despite the grand projects I would go on to create. I and my fellow Constructicons even built the Crystal City."

"The Crystal City?" Breakdown interrupted, "What's that?"

"The Crystal City, otherwise known as Praxus, was essentially a playground for the rich and influential," Hook explained, "It was an environmentally stable and beautiful city made of over 100 types of naturally grown Cybertronian crystals. Scrapper was the true brains behind that operation, but we all worked together to build it."

"Wow," Breakdown gasped.

"We were also the ones to destroy it," Hook told him.

"Oh," Breakdown replied awkwardly at that bombshell.

"Like I said, I also cared about politics and the plight of impoverished mechs," Hook continued, "When my friends and I had the opportunity to do something _constructive_ about the situation we leapt at the chance. Megatron was a hero to mechs and femmes that felt as if they had no voice and no power in our society. The citizens of Praxus were blithering dolts that had no idea what most of us went through just to survive. The situation hit its peak during the famine. That was when we truly could take no more."

"What's a manin?" Breakdown asked obliviously.

"A _famine_ ," Hook corrected him, "Is a period of time when there is not enough fuel for everyone. Cybertron has been unable to sustain its growing population for eons at this point. That is why we travel to planets such as this one to search for more sources of energon. You're very lucky to have been born here, Breakdown. Your tank is always full and your processor gets everything it needs to thrive. I've seen many mechs go mad, and others even die because of lack of fuel. Meanwhile the citizens of Praxus would _bathe_ in energon even while the common people starved. The beauty of Crystal City became an ugly reminder of those that had left us to die. It had to be torn down so that its sparklings might know our suffering."

"Whoa, that's pretty intense," Breakdown remarked, "I've never torn anything down to say anything before. I just break things because it's fun."

"This isn't fun, Breakdown," Hook warned him, "This is a fight for survival. The Autobots destroyed our way of life once, and we must not allow them to do it again. Either we survive, or they survive. Those are the only outcomes left to us. Now, let's go over the different sizes and functions of the scalpels again..."


	5. What It's Worth

_Author's Notes: I've been in the middle of a big project for a client, but I needed to write to relax my nerves so I wrote this chapter. Yay! Anyway, I've been thinking of having a set day of the week to schedule posting updates to my fics. Maybe every Friday or Saturday. What do you guys think? Should I try to get organized? The up side is it could mean more than one fic gets updated in a day. Downside is no updates for the entire week if I can't find time to write. Let me know what you think. Anyway, thanks for reading and reviewing this chapter of "Hook's Apprentice" :)_

* * *

Chapter 5

What It's Worth

Breakdown sat nervously at the Stunticons' table in the rec room while three of his four brothers argued among themselves. He just tried to drink his cube and forget everyone that was around him. He had to look down at the purple liquid, concentrate, lest he look up and see anyone else around him.

There! He saw that! The Coneheads just looked at him, he knows they did! Breakdown lifted the cube to his helm and looks through the empty part of the glass at the Coneheads to see if they were indeed staring at him. They were talking and laughing like everything was fine. Even Dirge was laughing for a change. They didn't see him see them, so they must not be out for his lifeless spark.

Breakdown sips the energon after holding the cube for several uncomfortable minutes, but he isn't really in the mood to refuel anymore. After working in the medbay for two weeks straight and sneaking around behind Motormaster's back the entire time, Hook had finally told the young mech that he had to tell Motormaster the truth about where he was going.

"Megatron gave the order, so Motormaster cannot terminate you for it," Hook had said at the time.

Breakdown wasn't so sure. Hook didn't know Motormaster. Motormaster felt that there was only one way to solve a problem, and that was with his fists and his energy sword. Still, if Breakdown didn't tell him he would have to look over his shoulder forever. Then again, he would probably do that anyway.

"After refueling we're goin' to the training room!" Motormaster shouted over the protests of Wildrider and Drag Strip, "You sacks of scrap are gonna get into shape!"

"But we're already a shape. Square!" Wildrider cackled at his own joke.

Motormaster answered that by punching Wildrider in the face and knocking him off his chair, which made Breakdown wince as he pictured that happening to him. He was finally feeling a sense of pride for working with Hook as an apprentice. For once he had a reason to get up in the morning. For once he was doing something worthwhile. He didn't want Motormaster to take that away from him.

"Any more complaints?" Motormaster asked threateningly as his optics stared down Drag Strip, Dead End, and Breakdown.

"N-No, sir!" Drag Strip stammered.

"What are we working on, then?" Dead End asked rationally rather than cave in to the fear his brothers felt.

"We're gonna work on stoppin' a charge," Motormaster declared proudly, "We're heavy hitters, but we need to work on keepin' our balance when an Autobot comes chargin' at us. Apparently Wildrider needs the first lesson."

"Very funny, scrap face," Wildrider grumbled as he rubbed his sore nose cone, "Anybody wanna help me pull my nose cone back out? I think it's hiding in there."

"Actually, your self repairs will take care of that on their own," Breakdown told him casually.

"Hah, like you know anything about it, bolt brain," Motormaster scoffed at Breakdown, "Remember yesterday when you asked Dead End if you could borrow his _Surelock's Homes_ book?"

Motormaster, Wildrider, and Drag Strip then started laughing at Breakdown's expense while Breakdown silently fumed; unwilling to say anything to get into a fight despite how cruel Motormaster's words were.

"I don't see why it's so funny," Breakdown finally grumbled when his brothers stopped laughing, "So what if I thought his name was Surelock?"

"Well to be fair," Dead End said in Breakdown's defense, "Sherlock Holmes _is_ a fairly stupid name, even for a human."

Motormaster took another huge swig of his energon and then slammed the cube down like a gavel. The sudden action made Breakdown flinch. It always unnerved Breakdown how every move Motormaster made seemed to be both a show of strength and a burst of anger. When Motormaster turned to regard Breakdown again, the blue much cowered involuntarily.

"What're you lookin' at, frag head?" Motormaster growled at Breakdown's wide eyed stare, "Something to say?"

Breakdown shook his helm no, but even as he did he said "Megatron ordered me to work with Hook for a while."

" _Hook_?" Motormaster asked with disdain, "You being reformatted as a Constructicon? Huh?"

"No, sir!" Breakdown replied too loudly, and he was sure somebody must be staring at him by now.

"Too bad," Motormaster replied, surprising Breakdown, "If they were offering to trade I would've taken Bonecrusher for you."

Part of Breakdown felt hurt by that remark, but he pushed that part down in favor of the part that still needed to justify himself before his gestalt leader.

"No Motormaster, I'm still a Stunticon," Breakdown explained, "But I'm working part time in the medbay with Hook. I'm in training to become a medic just like him. Don't worry though, I'll still always show up for training and drills with you guys. You're still my top priararity."

"Uh huh," Motormaster replied emotionlessly, and Breakdown worried about what that meant, "So, you think you have the processing power to be a medic? _Hah_! You have all the coordination of a set of flat tires, the processor of an analogue watch, and servos as steady as a rocking chair on the edge of a cliff! Hook must be glitched to think you'd be a good medic. You're barely good at being alive!"

Motormaster smirked in smug satisfaction, Wildrider laughed, Drag Strip shook his helm in disappointment in Breakdown's career choice, and Dead End drank his cube and ignored everyone. Breakdown deflated in his chair and timidly went back to drinking his cube of energon. Maybe Motormaster was right. Maybe he was worthless.

* * *

Later that day, after a painful set of training exercises, Breakdown arrived in the medbay to see every berth was full and Hook was frantically running around checking on patients. Even Mixmaster had showed up to mix medicines and painkillers, but it was clear Hook was way understaffed.

"Boss!" Breakdown exclaimed in shock, "What happened?"

"Failed raid," Hook explained hurriedly without slowing down, "I need painkillers now! Mixmaster, where are my pills!?"

"Hang-hang-hang on a klik!" Mixmaster barked irritably.

" _Holy pit,_ " Breakdown gasped softly, "Megatron has a helm wound!"

"I know, and he's still conscious," Hook griped as he welded Thundercracker's wing, "I need those pills _now_!"

"Alright, I'm co-coming!" Mixmaster raced across the medbay to hand Hook the freshly cooked medicine.

"Breakdown, administer this to Megatron," Hook ordered.

" _Me_!?" Breakdown yelped, "But I'll screw up! Megatron will die, and if he does live he'll offline me!"

"That was an order, Breakdown!" Hook shouted irately, far too overworked to worry about his apprentice's feelings, "Go!"

Breakdown nearly tripped over his own pedes trying to get away from the screaming medic. He knew Hook needed him, but he still didn't feel worthy. Motormaster's words rung in Breakdown's ears like a death knell. He was going to do something wrong. He was going to be punished. He was going to disappoint Hook. Hook would never forgive him. Megatron would die. The Autobots would win. They would throw him in a cage and gawk at him and-

He let out a feral cry to make his thoughts shut up and leave him alone, but the place was so chaotic that no one noticed his mental...breakdown. Oh, _that_ was why Vector Sigma named him that.

Pushing everything else away, he walked over to Megatron's berth. The old warlord was groaning in agony and clawing the sides of the berth he was laying on. His helm had been cracked open by something. Judging by the burn marks along the wiring and the indiscernible pattern of the damage, Breakdown would guess it was an explosion.

Just as Breakdown was about to offer the pills to Megatron, the Decepticon leader turned his helm Breakdown's way, and those piercing red optics regarded him with a hostile expression. Breakdown froze in his tracks, unable to look away from the frightening mech that was staring back at him. Breakdown's spark pulsed wildly in his chassis, and fear gripped him like a vice.

"Well?" Megatron rasped, aggressive despite how weak he was at the moment, "What do you want from me?"

"I...uh..." Breakdown stuttered and stalled as he tried to find his vocalizer, "Pills! I came to give you pills! From Mixmaster! Sir!"

Megatron growled in displeasure but then held out his servo for the proffered pills. Breakdown handed them to Megatron without taking his optics off the warlord's battered and angry face plate.

Megatron gulped down his pills, and Breakdown turned to walk away. Once he was away from the situation, Breakdown let out a huge sigh of relief he didn't know he'd been holding in. Well, that didn't go so badly. He just hoped Mixmaster's stupid pills didn't kill Megatron or something. Now that he thought about it, it was a good thing Mixmaster wasn't in line for Decepticon leadership. Mixmaster's drug access and Starscream's temperament would be a deadly combination.

"Breakdown!" Hook hollered demandingly, letting Breakdown know his time wasn't up yet, "Astrotrain needs reconstruction surgery. Get to it."

"Me? But I'm not ready!" Breakdown protested.

"It's a simple procedure. You can handle it," Hook replied more calmly than a moment ago, "However, it must be done. I have more serious cases to work on, but Astrotrain is our best transport ship. We need him on active duty as quickly as possible. Now get to it, rookie!"

"Sir, yes sir!" Breakdown replied with more surety than he felt, and he left Hook's side to search for Astrotrain.

It took a few moments to locate Astrotrain's berth amid the overflowing triage unit. When Breakdown saw what he was dealing with, he had to hold back a moan of awkward discomfort. Astrotrain had apparently skidded to a stop in his robot mode, and now he needed new plating for the back of his legs as well as his aft.

"Why does the universe hate me?" Breakdown muttered to himself as he inched closer to where the supply of emergency protoform armor was kept, "We'll be lucky if we even have anything for a triple changer with all the supplies being used today. Ugh! I can't believe I have to change Astrotrain's aft! This is somehow _worse_ than staring down Megatron. Oh pit, he's still conscious! I have to repair a conscious Astrotrain's aft!"

Breakdown keened in misery as he searched cabinets for the necessary sheets of armor plating he would need. Fortunately he happened to find some that was custom made for Astrotrain. Apparently Megatron considered Astrotrain a valuable soldier and therefore kept his supplies on hand. Or maybe Astrotrain just didn't get injured very often. Breakdown wasn't sure.

He gathered the tools he would need and then set to work on the task. He recalled his medical journals as well as welding pieces of plating back on Lucille. He remembered from the Skywarp incident that patients are supposed to be sedated before being welded on, so he called Mixmaster so he could get some pain meds. The only medication left was some liquid stuff that would leave Astrotrain high as a kite but not put him into recharge, so Breakdown accepted it begrudgingly. Dealing with a loopy triple changer was _not_ Breakdown's idea of a good time.

Once the meds took effect Astrotrain kept asking all sorts of inane questions that Breakdown did his best to ignore. Breakdown started with the legs since it was the largest (and least embarrassing) damaged area. He reconnected any stray wires that had come undone, but the wire damage was surprisingly minimal and no energon lines had been severed. That was fortunate at least. Breakdown would then use body glue and hot solder to attach the plating. He couldn't remember which was more effective so he used both.

Once that was done it was time for the part Breakdown had been dreading. The skid plate. Breakdown gulped and then took out a cutting tool to carve the proper shape of the...area. Breakdown had to measure it a few times before he could remember how exactly to cut it, which was all sorts of cringe-inducing since he was holding a measuring gauge to Astrotrain's uncovered aft. Yes, it was medical. Yes, it was necessary. No, that didn't help Breakdown's feelings on the matter at all.

Once Breakdown was satisfied that the plate was perfect he started with the glue once again. Then he soldered the piece and shifted it into place.

"What'cha doin?" Astrotrain asked drunkenly.

Breakdown winced but didn't answer. What he was doing was positioning Astrotrain's aft so no wires would stick out. Now, he had to make sure the joints in the legs would still work properly now that everything was in place.

"Astrotrain, I need you to stand up," Breakdown ordered gently.

"Uh...okay," Astrotrain replied after taking a few kliks to process what was said.

Astrotrain shakily staggered off the berth and held onto the edge for support. He was drugged, but otherwise seemed to be standing alright.

"Okay, now bend your knees," Breakdown ordered.

" _Whee_!" Astrotrain squealed as he bent his knees up and down.

"Great. That seems to be in order," Breakdown nodded approvingly, "Now bend your back."

"No way!" Astrotrain slurred, "You already copped a feel! I'm not lettin' you do it again! You didn't even buy me a drink!"

At that a few patients turned to see who Astrotrain was talking to. If Breakdown's face wasn't already red that was probably the color it would've turned.

"Yeah, uh...you're fine!" Breakdown abruptly shouted and then ran to the other side of the medbay.

Breakdown heaved a few calming intakes and tried to get his processor to work again. Maybe Motormaster was right. Maybe he wasn't cut out for this job.

* * *

It took a couple joors to get everyone stabilized. There were still a few mechs in the medbay recuperating from their latest battle with the Autobots, but it was definitely quieter than when Breakdown first came in. Hook was wiping off counters and Mixmaster was washing out his cement drum. Breakdown put away some of the tools he had used throughout the day and tried not to disturb his superiors. After all, they had been pushed to the limit.

"Hook..." That voice was Megatron's, as he had to stay behind while his helm was healing, "The raid..."

"You'll get those cursed Autobot next time, my liege," Hook assured his patient.

" _No_ , the raid...we didn't get any energon," Megatron told him through rasping breaths, "Not even a single cube. That is the third time in a row we have been thwarted. I have to order you to stop producing medical grade energon for the next three cycles."

" _Three cycles_?" Hook asked in disbelief, "But we're stretched thin enough as it is. If we don't have med grade then if someone gets injured they may bleed out! We can't afford raids if we don't have energon!"

"Well we can't waste energon until we have a successful raid," Megatron argued, "I don't order this lightly, Hook. I know we need the fuel. As it is I'll have to institute a rationing policy. We may even have to send a few soldiers back to Cybertron."

"But there's no fuel there either!" Hook objected, in a state of near panic.

"Do not raise your voice to me, _Constructicon_ ," Megatron rumbled dangerously, and Hook bowed his helm in submission, "It is decided. One cube a day for each soldier until our supply increases enough to lift the edict. Soundwave and Starscream will be here in a few breems. We will have to discuss the situation in here."

"Yes, Lord Megatron," Hook replies smoothly, though the look in his optics is one of subdued apprehension, "I'll see myself out. Come, Breakdown. Come, Mixmaster. Our leader requires privacy."

Mixmaster followed Hook out, and Breakdown followed as well after a moment of hesitation. The stiffness in Hook's stride told Breakdown that something was wrong, but he wasn't sure what to say. He never realized how much their faction relied on the raids to have enough fuel to eat.

"Sir?" Breakdown called out to Hook uncertainly, "Are we going to be okay?"

"Of course," Hook replies without hesitation, though Breakdown can hear the clipped tone he is using, "Also, you did good for your first day of actual surgeries. You weren't ready yet, but I couldn't afford to wait for you to get any better. Good job, apprentice. You have no idea what your skills are worth to me."

"Skills? Me?" Breakdown asked uncomprehendingly, "But I'm a loser. I get scared all the time, and I'm clumsy, and I don't talk so good. You could train anyone to do my job."

What happened next Breakdown didn't expect. Hook slapped Breakdown hard across the face, and the Stunticon stepped back in wide eyed fear of a beating from the older mech.

"Are you saying _anyone_ could do my job?" Hook asked venomously, and Breakdown shook his head timidly, "Don't you _ever_ say my skills are worthless! Being a medic is one of the most difficult, demanding, _thankless_ jobs in the Decepticon army! Now, can anyone do my job?"

" _No,_ sir!" Breakdown practically shrieked in fear of retaliation.

"Exactly. That also means not everyone can do _your_ job, because your job is my job," Hook explained heatedly, "Don't you _ever_ forget that, rookie."

"Yes, sir. No, sir. I, uh...thank you, sir," Breakdown's words wound down once he realized what Hook was saying about him, "You, uh...you don't think I'm a loser, boss?"

"Obviously not," Hook replied gruffly, "I chose you over your brothers and everyone else on this ship, didn't I?"

"You uh...you did," Breakdown breathed with dawning realization, "You did! You chose me! You wanted me! I just performed surgery and nobody died! You taught me how to do that and I remembered! That's amazing, sir! I'm gonna be a medic!"


	6. The Shortage

_Author's Notes: I can't believe it's been a year since I updated this! Goodness, I doubt any of my original audience even remembers this story! Well, I remember it and I recently was inspired to write this chapter, so I hope there's someone left to read it. Sorry for the long wait. Thank you for your patience ':)_

* * *

Chapter 6

The Shortage

As the days turned into weeks things grew more difficult for the Decepticons aboard the Nemesis. The one cube a day rationing made it so the larger Decepticons couldn't get enough fuel to power their weapons, which made them ineffective in battle, which meant they lost more raids, which meant even less energon. The shortage eventually progressed from being unable to power their weapons to sapping the strength from their very bodies.

The rationing process started off badly as newer models and recent recruits protested not being allowed their fill of energon. Medical grade was no longer being refined, which meant that while patients were being repaired after raids they weren't operating at an efficient level. Every mech suffered during the energon shortage, but especially those that had never known hunger before.

After a month and a half the one cube a day ration became one cube every _three_ days. Megatron was even considering putting some of his soldiers into stasis since it was clear they would die if this kept up much longer. Even the fighting that inevitably broke out among the ranks was weakened and ineffectual. It was like watching a riot in a retirement home.

Amid this tribulation Breakdown did his best to fulfill his responsibilities to both his gestalt and Hook. He found himself spending more and more time in the medbay since sending a combiner unit into battle was impractical due to their massive fuel consumption. At first he didn't like being in the Stunticons' shared living area because he was scared of his brothers, but eventually he didn't want to be there simply because it was depressing.

The Stunticons had never experienced hunger before, and none of them knew how to handle it. Motormaster, once vibrant and strong, was now a shambling angry shell of his former self. Drag Strip's emotion circuits were on the fritz and he would randomly cry and yell at others for little to no reason.

"Why does it hurt?" Wildrider asked one day as he clutched his tank, "Ow! My tummy hates me! Fix it, Breakdown! You're a medic! Fix me!"

"I can't! You need energon!" Breakdown had snapped irritably, feeling hungry himself, "Hook says filling your tank with water will trick your body into thinking you've refueled for a few minutes. The water evaporates due to our body heat, but it'll help for a little bit."

"I don't want to die like this," Dead End mumbled from where he lay face down on the floor, "It's too slow...too painful...too passive."

"We won't die," Motormaster said unconvincingly from his spot on the couch, "Megatron will save us. He'll...come up with...something."

That conversation was haunting to Breakdown. Before his training Breakdown would've been scared of this strange painful phenomenon, but now that he knew what starvation actually did to a mech's body he was even more concerned. What surprised him however was how calm the Constructicons were in this situation. Hook was a pillar of strength in this time of need, and Breakdown didn't know how he managed it. Sure, Hook still snapped at him to do his job better, but it didn't feel like crazy talk like it did with his delirious brothers.

On this particular day Breakdown was mopping the floor after he had spilled some anti-rust gel. He felt so bad about accidentally ruining sorely needed supplies, but Hook was in a lenient mood and didn't scream at or hit Breakdown. Breakdown knew Motormaster would've busted his helm for that, yet for some reason he respected Hook for not doing that. He didn't understand why. Strength was paramount in the Decepticon cause, yet Hook could create an aura of power and authority around himself without lifting a servo. Breakdown still didn't know how he did that.

The doors whooshed open and Breakdown turned expecting to see Hook returning from the supply closet. Instead he saw Scrapper supporting Scavenger by holding the mech's arm around his shoulder. Scavenger looked barely conscious, and Breakdown would've suspected him of being overcharged if there was any high grade to be found anywhere.

"We need a berth!" Scrapper hollered at Breakdown, "Scavenger drank some of his fraggin' rust juice."

"Some of his what?" Breakdown asked in nervous confusion.

"He keeps near-empty energon cubes in his room that collect rust and fizzle out," Scrapper explained, "With the shortage Scavenger started drinking his garbage fuel so he wouldn't have to take from the community rations."

"It'll..." Scavenger wheezed before saying, "It'll give...the troops...a chance. More energon...means they'll be ready."

"Come on, sir. Let's get you to a berth," Breakdown said comfortingly as he took Scavenger's other arm and helped Scrapper guide him to a berth, "Now, let's find you some anti-rust medication."

Breakdown then went to the cabinet where Hook kept the aforementioned medicine. When Breakdown looked through their dwindling supplies however, he didn't see the anti-rust meds anywhere. Breakdown grew worried, and started checking other cabinets and shelves. It didn't matter where he looked, he couldn't find the medicine anywhere!

Hook came in at that moment, and before he could even notice his gestalt brothers Breakdown grabbed Hook by the arms and frantically asked "Where's the anti-rust medicine?!"

"You spilled the last of it," Hook pointed out in a flat tone of voice, "Without energon to clean and fuel their systems more Decepticons are getting rust infections, so we ran out quicker than expected. Whoever needs it is just going to have to wait."

"It's Scavenger," Breakdown replied, and Hook knew then that something was wrong.

"That bolt brain drank rusty energon backwash, didn't he?" Hook surmised.

"Yes, sir," Breakdown replied sheepishly.

"And he has a rust infection," Hook guessed.

"Yes, sir," Breakdown nodded; feeling even more nervous now that Hook was staring at him with a wry expression.

"Great," Hook sighed longsufferingly, "Well then, if we don't get him the medication the infection will eventually kill him."

"Kill him!?" Breakdown exclaimed in shock, "Can't we just put him in stasis lock? We put Starscream in stasis lock just last week!"

"Rust doesn't sleep, Breakdown," Hook explained, "It will continue to eat him alive even if he's unconscious. No, we need that medicine. We also need energon and supplies. Without these things this entire ship is going to die, not just Scavenger."

Breakdown watched as Scavenger was tended to by his brothers, and couldn't help but feel utterly useless as he watched the mech heave and retch in a vain attempt to clear the rust out of his system. They had no anti-rust medication, they had no energon, and if nothing was done they had no hope of saving the Decepticon army. This was not a situation the young Stunticon had been trained for.

With the medbay making Breakdown feel as depressed as the Stunticons' living quarters, he figured he might as well go home. Hook couldn't treat anyone, therefore there was little need for a medical assistant. He might as well lay on his berth and wallow in his own misery.

When he got to the Stunticons' common area he didn't see anyone in the room at first. As he stepped inside however he tripped on the prone form of Dead End. He was conscious, and staring up at the ceiling with his dim purple visor.

"What are you doing down there?" Breakdown asked in concern.

"I am conserving energy," Dead End replied stoically, "If I am to be a corpse, then I wish to be a stunning one. If I can avoid movement for the duration of my life then I will maintain the fine polish I administered to myself a few hours ago."

"We're gonna get through this, Dead End," Breakdown vowed, "I don't know how, but somehow the Decepticons are going to survive. We can't let the Autobots win."

"What are they winning, exactly?" Dead End asked pessimistically, "The opportunity to live a few more vorns on this planet? Hah! They don't even want it. They just don't want _us_ to have it."

"Come to bed, Dead End. You can recharge there," Breakdown gently urged his brother.

"Don't you understand? Megatron gave this planet to us. It's ours," Dead End growled softly, "They're starving us out in the hopes of taking the planet from us, and then they're going to give it back to the _humans_. As if those apes can appreciate what they have here."

"You're delirious," Breakdown said anxiously, "The energon deprivation is making your processor run in circles."

"And it does not do this to you?" Dead End asked piercingly, "Breakdown, you're dying too. You might as well lay down on the floor with me and wait for our burial at sea. In fact, just punch a hole in the wall, and allow the ocean to consume us."

"Go to bed!" Breakdown snapped urgently.

"No!" Dead End shouted back at him as he stood up, "I may want to die, but I do not want to die without leaving behind a legacy."

"What are you talking about?" Breakdown asked.

"I'm talking about the energon shortage," Dead End whispered conspiratorially, "We can be heroes, Breakdown. Just you and me. Your medical knowledge and my cold ruthless efficiency...we would be unstoppable."

"I still don't understand what you're talking about," Breakdown replied in frustration.

"I'm talking about the Ark. Autobot Headquarters," Dead End replied as he leaned in closer to Breakdown, "You and I are going to break into Autobot Headquarters, and we are going to steal energon and medical supplies. All we need is a decoy, _me_ , and someone to sneak in and get the supplies, _you_."

"That's insane," Breakdown argued, "That sounds like something Wildrider would come up with!"

"That's what makes it brilliant," Dead End replied; undeterred, "The Autobots have the greatest tactical minds in the galaxy working for them. They expect plans within plans within plans. They won't expect us to do something so obvious and so crude. Think about it. If we bring back that energon, then we'll be able to conduct raids again, which means even more energon. Are you with me, brother?"

"Well...I...Oh, alright. I'm in."

* * *

Driving to Autobot HQ was an arduous ordeal. Every mile felt like torture for their empty tanks and weary tires. Breakdown wondered why he allowed Dead End to talk him into this, but remembering the dim optics and hopeless faces of his comrades answered his own question. He was doing this because if he didn't then his people were going to starve. As a healer, Breakdown couldn't allow that.

/Picking up anything on the Autobots' frequency?/ Dead End asked over the comm.

/Not yet,/ Breakdown replied, /Are we in their territory yet?/

/Yes we are,/ Dead End practically purred, /Any moment now we'll have our subspaces filled with energon./

/You sound oddly excited about this,/ Breakdown commented.

/I am. I can't explain it,/ Dead End replied almost shamefully, /It's like another processor has taken over my logic circuits. I think it's called...instinct. I don't know. It's something inside me that says I don't want to die; that I must live at all costs. I fear I'm having what humans would call a 'crisis of faith'. All my life I've wanted to die, and now when I'm so close my body has changed its mind./

/Well why would you want to die in the first place?/ Breakdown inquired, /Life is everything. It's _life_. Every experience we have is life. Why would you want that to end?/

/Oh, I don't know. Let's tally up the totality of our experiences, shall we?/ Dead End sarcastically replied, /From the moment we were born every experience has led to pain. Motormaster's punishments equal pain. Megatron's orders lead to pain. Battling with the Autobots also leads to pain, and oftentimes humiliation as well. Even succeeding in our mission will ultimately lead to a negative outcome, because then we'll have to go back to Cybertron and leave behind the only home we've ever known. From the moment I was born I knew death would be the ultimate feeling of peace. No more pain, no more suffering, no more humiliation. And yet...I find in our darkest hour that I want to survive. Why?/

/Because life is the only real thing we have,/ Breakdown declared, /Life is all we're born with, our most prized possession, and we all know eventually it will be stolen from us. Still, we fight for it because everything we are is wrapped up in it. Why do you think I'm so paranoid, huh? Because I don't want to die. I want to survive no matter the cost, and now that I work as a junior medic I can use that same fevered energy to help other mechs survive too./

/You mean you feel this way all the time?/ Dead End asked incredulously, /Wow, I never knew your life was so terrible. I hope this 'will to live' thing leaves me soon. I don't want to turn into another you./

/You know what? You're a real jerk sometimes,/ Breakdown grumbled.

Breakdown didn't have to wait for a witty reply from Dead End, as they had finally arrived at the Ark. Both mechs transformed into robot mode and hid behind some boulders that surrounded the area. It was always weird to the Stunticons that the Ark was half buried in a volcano. It made the place look like an artifact. They were surprised the Autobots hadn't seen them yet, and wondered if they could both sneak inside. That hope was quickly dashed when five vehicles exited the large orange structure.

"Come on out, Decepticons!" A folksy yet tough sounding voice ordered.

Dead End poked his helm out slightly to see who it was, and noted that Ironhide must have been the one that spoke. The other four Autobots were Warpath, Snarl, some new guy with flames painted on his red body, and some pink guy with a weird looking chassis that looked quite nice. Oh wait, that was a femme. Dead End had never seen one before, and now wondered what all the fuss was about. It just looked like a mech with curves.

"Who is it?" Breakdown whispered.

"It doesn't matter who they are," Dead End hissed as he drew his gun from subspace, "Once the battle commences, sneak around to the entrance and get that energon. No matter what happens to me, don't stop until you get those supplies back to the Nemesis."

Breakdown gulped, and Dead End swiftly hoisted himself over the rock and charged for the battle line! The pink Autobot was about to ask how many other Decepticons there were in the area, but Dead End fired at her before the question could be answered. Soon everyone was shooting at Dead End, who was managing to dodge the attacks of the powerful but slower heavies the Autobots had sent out to defend themselves. Snarl tried swinging his spiky tail at Dead End, but the red mech dodged the stegosaurus expertly.

"Give it up, 'Con!" Ironhide shouted as he fired liquid nitrogen at Dead End, "There's no way you can beat us!"

"I can...certainly...try!" Dead End yelped in between dodging blasts.

Breakdown meanwhile snuck behind the rocks, and kept himself low to the ground. He knew this would be hard, especially since his loud blue and white paint clashed with the sandy color of the terrain. He wondered if maybe Dead End should've been the one to sneak in, but he dismissed the thought as the open entrance came into view. He wondered if an army of Autobots was waiting for him, with their staring eyes and merciless trigger fingers. He knew he had to risk it, but his fritzing nervous circuits were getting the better of him.

He looked one last time to make sure no one saw him. Dead End was still uninjured, Ironhide was missing every shot, Snarl was dizzy, Warpath was shooting relentlessly but kept hitting behind Dead End, and the other two were driving around to the other side in hopes of cutting Dead End off. This was it. Breakdown had to get inside. It was now or never.

Breakdown practically leapt into his alt mode and drove as quickly as he could into the building before abruptly stopping before he was all the way inside. Okay, there was no one inside the entrance. So far so good.

Breakdown transformed back into robot mode and slunk around to see if anyone was in the main control room. Gears was at the controls of Teletraan 1, and at first Breakdown was sure he'd never get past the temperamental minibot, but then heard a strange grinding noise coming from Gears. That was when Breakdown realized, Gears was snoring. That lazy bum was asleep!

Realizing that he would have to be very quiet, Breakdown placed each pede carefully on the floor as he walked. He couldn't allow himself to wake the minibot. He had to get to the nearest energon dispenser. If he could he would also go to sickbay. Hook needed supplies, or else the Decepticons would all fall apart. Without that anti-rust cream Scavenger could die. Breakdown couldn't let his mentor or Scavenger down, not after everything Hook had done for him.

Breakdown managed to make it past Gears and the control room, and proceeded to slink down the hallway, keeping his body close to the wall just in case there were cameras. It probably wouldn't help, but Breakdown's paranoia insisted he had to keep to the walls just like spies did on TV.

Breakdown looked into every room he came across where the door wasn't locked, and he quickly found the rec room. It was...beautiful. Chairs, a couch, a big TV, and _two_ energon dispensers. Breakdown never realized how magnificent a room with energon could look. There was just one problem. The room wasn't empty.

Jazz was sitting at one of the tables with Wheeljack, both watching the TV screen. That was when Breakdown realized the screen wasn't showing an earth program, but the battle taking place outside. Dead End was leaking energon from several places, and it was clear that if something wasn't done soon he wouldn't survive. After all, he didn't have much energon left to lose.

"I can't believe they only sent out one Decepticon," Wheeljack commented; never taking his optics off the screen.

"Somethin's fishy," Jazz concurred, "There's gotta be more. What is ol' Buckethead plannin'?"

Breakdown couldn't enter the room lest he be discovered, so he stayed on the edge of the doorway watching the fight. He could feel Dead End's pain through the bond, now that Dead End was no longer strong enough to keep the bond closed off. Breakdown feared for his brother, and for Menasor, but maybe it was for the best. Dead End probably felt better dying like this than wasting away on the Nemesis. At least, that was what Breakdown told himself.

What Breakdown saw on the screen next however gave him some hope, not just for his brother but for the mission. Ratchet had gone out into the chaos and was treating Dead End's wounds! Dead End might become a prisoner of war, but at least the Autobots would keep him alive to use as a bargaining chip. Ratchet being outside also meant that the medbay was empty, and Breakdown would have a few precious minutes to steal energon and medical supplies.

He rushed away from the doorway and hoped that Jazz and Wheeljack didn't see him. No one chased him, so he assumed he got away. Breakdown didn't give himself time to breathe an intake of relief, instead continuing on his way in search of sickbay. He found it a few minutes later after trying several doors, and was stunned by the sight of it.

Just like the Decepticon medbay, this medbay was huge. It didn't feel as cold or sterile however. There were tools everywhere, especially wrenches, and there were no curtains sectioning off the different beds. Everything was open and warm and lived in. The walls and berths were orange, naturally, and Breakdown briefly wondered who in the pit designed this place with such an ugly color scheme. Purple seemed so much more dignified than orange.

Pulling himself out of his reverie, Breakdown started stuffing everything in the cabinets into his subspace. He didn't even look at what he was grabbing; he just grabbed. Then, quick as a flash, Breakdown went over to the energon dispenser and started pouring energon into empty cubes he had brought with him. He would grab the medical grade once he was finished getting regular fuel for himself and his comrades. He even considered hoarding some for himself and his brothers just in case Megatron decided to take the lion's share of their haul.

While Breakdown was filling up the second cube a shadow fell over him, and he gasped and jumped as he realized he had been caught. A red and white mech with a blue visor was standing before him, and Breakdown's frantic mind somehow managed to recall the name First Aid.

"A Decepticon!" First Aid shrieked in alarm, "You won't get away with this!"

Breakdown felt frozen as that ice blue visor stared into his spark. It didn't even occur to Breakdown that his opponent was unarmed and just as frightened as he was.

"My gestalt will be here any moment to apprehend you, so I suggest you run!" First Aid shouted, his vocalizer cracking slightly in nervousness.

"Can I at least fill up this cube first?" Breakdown dumbly asked.

Breakdown knew that was exactly the wrong thing to say, but he couldn't help it. Despite his fear he was still desperate; his haggard body crying for energon. They had risked too much to come out of it empty-handed.

"Fill up the cube? Are you crazy? I just said reinforcements are on the way," First Aid reminded him, "Wait, are there more Decepticons coming here too? Is that why you're still here?"

"Hey, are you scared?" Breakdown abruptly wondered.

"No, I'm not scared!" First Aid lied, "I'm just, uh, reluctant to engage in battle."

"Why?" Breakdown asked.

"Well, I'm a pacifist for one," First Aid explained.

"Oh, well that's okay. I'm from the Pastific Ocean too," Breakdown shrugged, "But I don't see what that has to do with fighting."

"No, a _pacifist_. It means I don't believe in committing acts of violence," First Aid explained as patiently as he could manage.

"Oh. So, uh...you don't actually have a gun, do you?" Breakdown realized.

"Well...no," First Aid admitted, "My brothers are coming though. I wasn't lying about that."

"You from a combiner unit?" Breakdown asked almost casually, feeling less afraid.

"Yes, the Protectobots," First Aid replied, a semblance of pride in his tone of voice.

"Oh. I'm from the Stunticons," Breakdown told him, "I'm a leg. You?"

"I'm an arm," First Aid replied.

"Well then, if Dead End makes it here could you not kill him? He's an arm too," Breadown requested.

"I would never kill an injured mech!" First Aid cried out in offense, "As a junior medic it is my duty to care for all sentient life, not just my comrades."

"You're a junior medic?"

"Yes, I am working under Ratchet to become a fully certified medic. I hope someday I will be good enough to be even half as renowned as he is."

"I'm working under Hook. He's tough on me, but I think I'm learning a lot."

" _You're_ a medic's apprentice?" First Aid could hardly believe it, "But I thought the Stunticons were all bloodthirsty monsters."

"We are," Breakdown replied shamelessly, "But that doesn't mean I can't have a hobby."

"If you're a medic then how could you want to attack us without provocation and rob us blind?"

"You make it sound like this isn't your fault," Breakdown growled, and First Aid flinched, "Look, we're in a bad way. You stop our raids, and you keep us from getting any energon! If we don't do something, then we're all gonna die! We're out of medical supplies, out of food, and out of options! Even Megatron is losing power! Uh oh...I think I just said too much."

"It can't be that bad," First Aid replied somewhat defensively, "We don't steal energon, yet we always have enough."

"The humans give it to you," Breakdown scoffed dismissively, "I don't know how you brainwashed those monkeys, but for whatever reason they give you everything you want. You have access to their technology, their energy, and their experts. We have _this_ -" Breakdown brandished his gun for emphasis, "-and we're gonna use it if that's what it takes to survive. So don't you act like you're better than us, because you would _be_ us if our places changed."

First Aid looked conflicted, and Breakdown put his gun back in subspace as he prepared to take off before the Protectobots showed up to kick his skid plate. As he was almost to the entrance however First Aid cried out "Wait!"

Breakdown turned around and saw a dark purple cube in First Aid's servos, much richer looking than the stuff he shoved in his subspace.

"Take this," First Aid insisted, "You need medical grade. Especially if someone in your group gets injured."

"You're kidding, right?" Breakdown asked skeptically, "We're Decepticons. You're an Autobot. Why would you help us?"

"Because you need it," First Aid replied as if it explained everything, "I hope someday we don't have to be enemies. Until that day, just try to keep yourselves together."

Breakdown took the cube and put it in his subspace, still a little stunned by that unexpected act of kindness. He was about to go when he heard the telltale sound of ambulance sirens. Ratchet was back!

Breakdown hid behind a berth while Ratchet drove in and transformed, carrying a wounded Dead End in his arms. First Aid looked both nervous and piteous of the injured Decepticon, aware that it was the brother of their medical supply thief. Ratchet ordered First Aid to sterilize some tools, and he began hooking Dead End up to a cube of med grade energon. He had patched Dead End up on the battlefield, but the Stunticon would need surgery if he was going to survive.

As Breakdown watched them work on his brother, he knew he would be unable to provide the physical and emotional support Dead End deserved. No matter what, Breakdown had to get back to Decepticon HQ with the stolen supplies, and that was exactly what he did. He left his brother to be a prisoner of the enemy, and he snuck out to go back to the Nemesis with their much needed supplies.


	7. Savage Hunger

_Author's Notes: Hi everyone! I know this fic is probably not a great pick to update amidst the coronavirus outbreak, but I have two reasons for doing so. One, I received a lovely review from **anon** that made me want to update it. Two, I think in this difficult time for our planet it would serve us well to remember the medical workers who are risking their lives and making difficult choices to save as many lives as they can. So, this chapter is dedicated to the doctors, nurses, and volunteers out there helping their communities._

* * *

Chapter 7

Savage Hunger

When Breakdown returned to headquarters his first stop was going to be to Megatron, but at the last moment he chickened out. He had managed to get so little energon; two regular cubes and one cube of medical grade. It wasn't enough to ration fairly, and Breakdown had lost Dead End to the Autobots in the attempt. No, he would not share his treasure with Megatron. If anyone asked about Dead End, then he didn't see anything.

His paranoia was turned up to eleven once he actually made it back to the Nemesis. Soundwave might have recorded him leaving with Dead End, and then he would know Breakdown was lying! Or worse, the Reflector triplets might've seen. Those guys were so creepy, especially Viewfinder with his stupid giant camera lense on his chest. Breakdown was one step away from muttering incoherently to himself as he made his way through the cold dank hallways.

He couldn't go to Megatron, but he also wasn't going to tell Motormaster; at least not right away. He would go to Hook first. Hook was the one who could use the medical supplies, and Scavenger needed that anti-rust cream. Breakdown just hoped Scavenger didn't die. He had actually grown to like the Constructicons over the course of his medical training, and Scavenger was actually a lot of fun to be around despite his odd hobbies and weird smell.

When Breakdown made it into the medbay he saw that all six Constructicons were gathered around Scavenger's berth. Such camaraderie. Breakdown didn't think his own gestalt team would do that for him. Wildrider wouldn't remember, Dead End might show up (maybe), but Drag Strip and Motormaster wouldn't care. Breakdown was always taking care of them, but he got so little of that same attention in return.

"Ah, Breakdown. Where have you been?" Hook asked, sounding tired but welcoming, "I need you to scrub that berth over there. Scavenger leaked transmission fluid on it, and we had to move him to prevent further rust setting in."

"Yes, sir," Breakdown replied dutifully, "When I'm finished I have something to show you."

"Did you injure yourself?" Hook asked apprehensively, "If it's too serious I can't treat you."

"No, sir. It's something good," Breakdown assured him.

"Well then you might as well show me now," Hook replied, "I could use some good news today."

Breakdown went over to where the other Constructicons were, and kept his focus squarely on Hook. He didn't know how the other Constructicons were looking at him or if they approved of him being there, but he did know he would lose his nerve if he saw their glaring red optics staring back at him.

Breakdown went to a supply tray, and then emptied his subspace of every piece of medical equipment he had stolen from the Autobots. The other Constructicons looked at the haul with amazement, not even noticing Breakdown had left to go on the raid. There were tools, loose wires, and so much more! The last thing Breakdown pulled out was the two cubes of energon, followed by the cube of medical grade energon.

"This is amazing!" Scrapper exclaimed approvingly, "I don't know what you did Breakdown, but it obviously worked."

"Well...only kind of," Breakdown replied shamefully, "I snuck into Autobot HQ with Dead End so we could steal their supplies, but they captured him. I barely made it out with anything."

"The medical grade means we might be able to conduct a small raid on one of the humans' power plants," Hook noted, "And these supplies mean I might be able to get some work done around here."

"Laser scalpels in four different si-sizes," Mixmaster rattled off as he counted up the loot, "Joint cream...pro-pro-processor scanner. We might be able to sell that to Swindle for something we can t-trade with the humans."

" _Trade_ with the _humans_? Are you off your rocket?" Bonecrusher scoffed, "We should crush the humans and take what we want!"

"If we do that then that'll alert the Autobots, and those well-fed slaggers will wipe the floor with us," Scrapper countered, "No, Mixmaster is right. We need things to trade. If the humans work with us willingly then we have a better shot of ending this famine."

"That's a good thing, right?" Breakdown asked hopefully.

"It's a very good thing," Hook replied with a grin.

"Something's wrong," Mixmaster suddenly piped up, and everyone turned to regard him, "There are many many good things here Breakdown, but there's no no no anti-rust gel. We don't have anything to g-gi-give to Scavenger."

Breakdown involuntarily gasped at the news. He knew Mixmaster had to be wrong, so he started frantically rummaging through the items himself to see if he could find the missing medicine. The other Constructicons hung their helms while Breakdown continued his fruitless search. They knew he wouldn't find it, because it simply wasn't there.

"No! No! No! No!" Breakdown roared as he banged his fist against the tray; sending its contents spilling all around the room, "Why wasn't I more careful!? Why didn't I look harder? It was those stupid Autobots. Distracting me! Taunting me! Stalking me! Hunting me down like an animal! Now Scavenger is gonna die, and it's all my fault! I had _one job_!"

"Breakdown, control yourself!" Hook demanded and roughly grabbed the younger mech's shoulder guard, "Breakdown, I know you feel bad. You're supposed to feel bad. You're a medic, and your patient is dying. Every medic feels this way; wondering if they could've done more...wondering where they went wrong. I know, because I feel that way right now; just like you do."

"I don't _wonder_ anything. I _know_ I screwed up," Breakdown growled, angry at himself but ready to take it out on Hook, "The Autobots have probably beefed up security by now. I only had one chance and I blew it. I'm not a good warrior, I'm not a good spy, and I'm not a good medic. I'm nothing!"

Before anyone could reply Scavenger started coughing up a burnt orange colored fluid in his recharge. It was obviously dried energon stained with flaking rust.

"Sit down, Breakdown," Hook ordered sternly, "We will discuss your failures later. For now just stay out of our way. My comrades and I need to tend to Scavenger."

"Yes, sir," Breakdown sighed, and sulked as he walked away from the green and purple mechs.

Breakdown knew Hook was angry with him, but also knew Hook wasn't like Megatron or Motormaster. Those two loved rubbing Breakdown's nose in his mistakes and punishing him for his shortcomings. Hook however was a classier mech, and for reasons Breakdown didn't understand the Constructicon would just as soon cover over Breakdown's mistakes rather than punish him for them. Somehow though, disappointing a mech like that made Breakdown feel worse than anytime he failed his brother or even the Decepticon leader. He hated letting down the only one that truly believed he wasn't a screw up.

* * *

It had been several hours since Breakdown came in from the raid, and the Constructicons were taking turns watching Scavenger to see if he needed anything. They couldn't give him the medical grade energon just in case a mech with a more salvageable condition needed it. All they could do was keep him comfortable, and fortunately for them Breakdown had managed to steal some pain suppressors. At least with those Scavenger wouldn't feel the rust eat him away.

It was oh-one-hundred hours, and Hook was the one watching Scavenger after relieving Long Haul from the job. Scavenger's condition was getting worse, and it was painful to watch him deteriorate like that. After all the battles they had fought, after all the damage they inflicted on their enemies as Devastator, it was all going to end like this. Death by rust-poisoned energon dregs. It just felt so...anticlimactic.

Hook was almost in recharge himself as he sat in a chair beside his gestalt kin, when Scavenger suddenly rasped "H-Hook..."

"Eh?" Hook roused himself awake to see what Scavenger needed.

"Hook...I smell cobalt treats," Scavenger groaned, his vocalizer barely above a whisper.

"No you don't," Hook sighed, "They don't make cobalt treats anymore. That was a specialty of Tarn fuel smelters, and I'm pretty sure the last one died on Cybertron 5 million years ago."

"No...I smell it," Scavenger argued, "They smell just like Coolant's. Coolant used to run the fuel smeltery when I was a sparkling. I was sparked to work as a backhoe in Tarn, and after work if I had any credits to spare I would go...to Coolant's for cobalt treats, and sometimes vorn-old copper-infused energon. It was cheaper if you waited, and I didn't mind that it turned green. Mmm...Hook? Can I have some cobalt treats? I promise I can handle it."

Hook felt his vocalizer tighten. He knew Scavenger was delusional, but he didn't know what to say. Scavenger had told him before about his time in Tarn, but he had forgotten all about Coolant's. Hook hadn't known Scavenger as a sparkling. While Scavenger was sparked as an expendable drone and dug into the hard metallic ground for his daily rations Hook was asleep in his comfortable home with his two loving parents. Hook hated thinking about the life Scavenger had led before they met each other.

"I want some cobalt treats..." Scavenger said in a groggy voice, barely able to stay online.

"Not right now," Hook finally replied, "First you need to get better. When you're well, then we'll look into concocting a recipe for cobalt treats. I'm sure Mixmaster can come up with something. He's the best chemist in the universe, you know."

"I wanna go to Coolant's..." Scavenger replied deliriously.

"Rest..." Hook replied firmly as he injected Scavenger with a recharge aid Breakdown had stolen for them, "We can discuss it tomorrow, Scavenger. Just get well for me, okay? We still need you. Once the energon shortage is over Devastator will rampage throughout this miserable planet once again. We will be just as glorious as before. Okay?" Scavenger was in recharge by this time, so Hook answered himself with, "Okay."

Hook knew Scavenger would be in recharge for several hours, so he took the time to wipe the purged energon from around Scavenger's face and berth. He then checked for any leaks, and found a new one on the right side of Scavenger's torso. Hook then used a piece of mesh and a welding torch to plug the hole. He knew working on the fuel line was pointless. The problem was the armor that kept rusting all around Scavenger's frame. Hook would have to monitor him carefully until they could find a way to get that anti-rust gel.

Just as Hook was about to continue cleaning around Scavenger's berth he got a transmission on his comm.

/Blitzwing to Hook! We got two patients coming in!/

/ _Now_? I'm rather busy,/ Hook snapped, /Is it an emergency?/

/Duh! Why else would we need a _medic_?/ Blitzwing rudely retorted, /Blast Off and Wildrider are coming in, so you better get ready, Doc!/

Blitzwing then hung up the comm before Hook could say anything else, and Hook prepared potential tools and supplies that could be needed for whatever the emergency might be. He wished Blitzwing would've told him something. Then maybe he could be more efficient in his preparations. As he raced around his medbay something Blitzwing had said suddenly struck him.

Wildrider.

Blitzwing had said Wildrider was one of the injured mechs. He was a Stunticon...Breakdown's gestalt brother. Breakdown had already gone back to his quarters in disgrace, knowing that Dead End was captured and Scavenger was dying. If the poor mech found out about Wildrider he would be devastated. Hook decided then. He wouldn't comm Breakdown for his help. He would just patch up Wildrider and Blast Off and hope Breakdown didn't learn of any mishaps that might have happened.

Blitzwing ran through the door carrying Blast Off, with Wildrider running behind them. When Hook got a good look at his patients the horror of the scene became a bit more clear.

Blast Off's right arm had been ripped off his body, and he was holding it with his left arm so he wouldn't lose track of it. He was leaking what precious little energon he had left. His helm had been punched in. That wasn't the part that stunned Hook however. Wildrider had energon stains on his mouth and his denta. His eyes were a little brighter than they had been before. His servos were also stained with energon. What really told the tale was the large footprint denting his chassis. As if he had been kicked.

"What did you do?" Hook immediately demanded to know.

Wildrider didn't seem to notice he was being addressed however. He just kept looking between the walls of the medbay and Blast Off, and Blast Off was glaring viciously at the Stunticon with what little strength he had left.

"Wildrider attacked Blast Off," Blitzwing answered for him, "He ripped off the fragger's arm and started drinking the energon that spilled out. I gotta tell you, it's been a long time since I've seen a starving mech try something so desperate."

"Just get Blast Off on the berth," Hook sighed wearily, "You've actually come to my office at an opportune time. I can treat the energon loss, but just barely."

"How can you treat energon loss with no med grade?" Blitzwing asked.

"I have one cube left in resevere for emergencies such as this one," Hook explained.

Hook was truly grateful that Breakdown had raided the Autobots now. That single cube of medical grade energon was going to save Blast Off's life. After he secured Blast Off to the berth however, he suddenly heard an unholy howl! He turned around to see Wildrider lunging for him, and Blitzwing grabbed him just in time!

"Gimme!" Wildrider demanded as he fruitlessly clawed at the air near Hook, "Gimme that energon! Now!"

"It's not for drinking," Hook told him, "It's medical grade, and can only be safely administered intravenously."

"I don't care what planet it's from!" Wildrider raved, "I need it! I'm shrinking! Gimme that energon!"

Hook of course could see Wildrider was not shrinking. It was clear that starvation was slowly shattering his already fragile grip on reality. Blitzwing, also deprived of energon, was too weak to keep a firm grip on the unruly Stunticon. Wildrider forced Blitzwing down and then stepped on him as he ran toward Hook! Hook tackled him, but Wildrider didn't fall. The two mechs struggled as Wildrider tried to get at the cube that could save Blast Off. The titular shuttle-former had already passed out, thankfully. Hook knew his patient would die if he couldn't get Wildrider under control.

"Outta my way, Constructicon!" Wildrider growled viciously at Hook, "It's _mine_. It's mine! You can't kill me! I quit!"

Hook used every ounce of his strength to fend off Wildrider. His patient depended on his strength and his clear thinking. He had to get the Stunticon under control so he could treat Blast Off. It wasn't just Blast Off's life at stake after all. He was part of the combiner known as Bruticus, and if he died then the other Combaticons wouldn't receive their rations. Megatron could afford no drain on resources, and he would abandon a combiner team that became useless.

"Stop...I'll give you fuel, just stop fighting me!" Hook grunted as Wildrider continued to grapple with him.

Wildrider didn't hear him however. Hook didn't know what gruesome realm Wildrider's processor had sent him to, but he clearly was no longer among the mentally functional members of this ship. His hallucinations and hunger drove him onward, and Hook unfortunately was the roadblock standing in Wildrider's way. If nothing was done, Wildrider could kill every mech in that room.

Just as Hook felt his strength might give under the pressure of Wildrider's assault, a steel tool tray suddenly flew through the air and clonked Wildrider on the helm with great force; knocking him unconscious.

At first Hook didn't know what to think. He looked at Blitzwing, but he was still groaning on the floor. Blast Off was still passed out. Hook then turned to the berth, and saw Scavenger awake with his arm still outstretched from the motion of throwing the tray. Hook didn't even know Scavenger had woken up, and wondered briefly what type of cheap recharging meds the Autobots were using.

Before Hook could thank his brother however, Scavenger fell back against the berth and lost consciousness again. As he impacted his berth another piece of his rusted frame fell off and to the floor, causing Hook to sigh mournfully. The Nemesis and it's crew were falling apart, and it seemed Hook was always the one left to pick up the pieces.


	8. Scavenging

Chapter 8

Scavenging

Of all the difficulties the Constructicons experienced working on the Nemesis, this was the part Hook hated the most. Megatron had summoned the titular combiner team to the bridge, and now he and Starscream were grilling Scrapper and Hook on the condition of Scavenger.

" _Fatal_?" Megatron spat the word with all the disdain of a picky child being forced to eat vegetables, "Don't give me that! If Scavenger dies then Devastator dies! It's your job to keep this ship and its crew functional, so fix him now!"

"We can't, Lord Megatron," Scrapper replied as diplomatically as he could, "He needs anti-rust gel, but we simply don't have any."

"Nonsense!" Megatron bellowed, "Mixmaster, concocting chemicals is your job. Why don't we have rust gel?"

"Be-be-be-because it requires cybermatter as a base, and earth doesn't have it," Mixmaster explained, "We can-can-can't even requisition it from Cybertron. Space bridge bridge technology requires energon to function, and so do we! So, no way to make the anti-rust cr-cream."

"Personally I think we should just let Scavenger die," Starscream remarked from beside Megatron, "Devastator requires too much power, so it's impractical to use such a weapon against the Autobots at this time. Besides, one less mouth to fuel means the rest of us might survive."

Megatron then backhanded Starscream and sent him falling to the floor with a satisfying thunk.

"Silence, Starscream!" Megatron shouted indignantly, "We need soldiers if we are to defeat the Autobots, and we need Devastator to hold our advantage. The Autobots have two combiners, whereas we have three. We lose Devastator, and we lose our best warrior. Do you understand?"

"If _I_ were leader we wouldn't be dealing with this famine right now!" Starscream shrieked, "I would have defeated Optimus Prime eons ago!"

This resulted in Megatron kicking Starscream across the bridge, and then running after the irritating seeker to continue the pounding. The Constructions merely watched this take place without commenting; continuing their professionalism despite wanting to snicker.

/I'm recording this for Long Haul,/ Bonecrusher said over the spark bond, /This should make berth-side duty more bearable. Heh heh.../

/It isn't right for Starscream to speak so disrespectfully of Scavenger,/ Hook huffed to the others, / _One less mouth to fuel_ my optic! The only reason Scavenger is dying is because he was too considerate to take his rightful ration instead of that rusted swill under his berth. I would cheer Megatron on to rip off Starscream's wings, except I don't have time to reattach them./

When Megatron and Starscream returned to speak with the Constructicons Starscream was sporting a few new dents but was otherwise no worse for wear. Scrapper stepped forward to represent his brethren and hoped that Megatron's next request would be reasonable. No such luck.

"I want you to synthesize an artificial form of cybermatter for our future use," Megatron ordered.

"That's not possible, master!" Mixmaster protested, "I've looked into into it. Cybermatter is too complex to be recreated. We need need need the real deal, but we can't get it."

"So you are saying Scavenger is lost to us?" Megatron asked severely.

"We do not wish it so, Lord Megatron," Scrapper replied solemnly, "But we have no way to repair him. All we can do is wait for...the inevitable."

"Very well," Megatron nodded, "Inform me when he has been terminated, and then we will research candidates for a replacement."

"Replacement?" Scrapper parroted before he could think, "But sir! Shockwave himself designed our combiner mode. Without him there's no way to properly format a new mech to replace Scavenger."

"I built the Stunticons from the ground up, I can build a right arm," Megatron growled, an edge to his voice daring further protest, "Dismissed."

The Constructicons left the debriefing with heavy sparks. Not only would they lose Scavenger, but they would have to be permanently connected with a new mech. It could be anyone of an appropriate size not already in a combiner team. What if they got a Conehead? Or Astrotrain? Or worse! _Starscream_?

When they made it back to the medbay they told Long Haul everything that had happened, and he looked equally uncomfortable with the notion but tried not to let it show.

"Well...we all learned to like each other. Maybe we can accept the new guy too," Long Haul simpered.

"This is outrageous!" Scrapper snapped furiously as he balled his fists, "Scavenger is still alive! He ain't even cold yet and Megatron wants us to just forget him and find a replacement! I won't do it!"

"I doubt we'll get to choose our new arm," Hook pointed out, "Megatron will likely choose for us. I don't want this anymore than you do, but we must do what is necessary to keep ourselves alive. Optimus Prime and his ilk won't rest until everyone on Cybertron is exactly like them. Soft, weak, and cowardly. We must remain strong and willing to do whatever it takes to win. When Scavenger wakes up, _if_ he ever wakes up, nobody tells him. I want his final moments to be as peaceful and happy as we can make them."

Just then the door swooshed open, and Hook feared it would be Starscream whining about his dents and dings, but it turned out to merely be Breakdown coming in for his shift.

"I brought a pair of scissors from my room," Breakdown said humbly, "I don't know what they can be used for, but maybe they'll help with...something."

"Put them on the tray," Hook instructed, "We were just talking about Megatron's decree."

"Did he figure out a way to save Scavenger?" Breakdown asked hopefully.

"No such luck," Hook sighed, "When Scavenger offlines we are to report to Megatron to find a replacement for him. To rebuild Devastator."

"They can do that?" Breakdown asked worriedly, "Don't tell Motormaster! He'd kill me if he found out he could get a new brother! He hates that I'm such a coward."

"Coward? The mech that stormed the Autobots and retrieved our supplies? Now where did Motormaster get such a ridiculous notion?" Hook asked with a playful smile, "Breakdown, you're not a coward. You are the unsung hero of the Nemesis. Because of your efforts I was able to save Blast Off's life yesterday. That med grade kept Bruticus alive."

"I didn't know about that," Breakdown told him, "So, if Scavenger lives will Megatron still replace him?"

"He won't live without the anti-rust gel," Hook reminded him, "And we have no means to obtain it. Listen, we're going to need extra tarp to keep Scavenger warm. Go to the supply closet and get ten of them. That way we can change one when it gets dirty."

"Yes, sir," Breakdown nodded.

As Breakdown walked down the various hallways he couldn't help but think about the situation. Scavenger was dying, he needed rust cream, Megatron would replace him if he died, they had no rust cream. The problem was Scavenger's body breaking down. His name was Breakdown. No, no, _no_! This train of thought was getting him nowhere!

As Breakdown reached for the supply closet door, a thought suddenly struck him. They had no rust cream because he failed to grab any when he was in the Autobot base, but the Autobots probably had rust cream because none of them had turned to rust yet. In fact, Perceptor invented a way to prevent Cosmic Rust, the deadliest disease to ever hit the Cybertronian race. The Autobots knew about this stuff. The answer still remained in their base. Dead End was in their base. He was a prisoner.

Wait, that was it!

Breakdown abandoned the closet without getting the blankets. He ran all the way to his room and locked the door behind him. He pulled up the loose metallic floorboard and pulled out a cube of energon, only three quarters full, that he had been hoarding. Then he comm'ed Swindle.

/What can I do for you?/ Swindle replied, still all-business and all smiles despite the crisis.

/Do you have anti-rust cream?/ Breakdown asked hurriedly.

/No. Nobody does. I heard about Scavenger. Poor stiff./

/Is this line secure?/ Breakdown demanded to know.

/Of course. All of my lines are secure. It's better for business./

/I need to patch a comm out to the Autobot base. Can you do that?/

/What's in it for me?/

/A cube of energon, almost full. I've been saving it./

/Wow, this must be some call!/ Swindle remarked.

/It is to me. Can you do it?/ Breakdown asked; trying not to sound as annoyed as he was.

/Which Autobot? I have the comm frequency for 37 of them./

/Do you have First Aid?/

/Sure. Kid's frequency is about as secure as a wind sock hanging by dental floss. I'll let you make your call, but if you don't give me that cube by the end of the orn I'll tell Megatron all about your _recent activity_./

/You'll get the fragging cube, now hurry up and patch me through!/

/Yeesh! You Stunticons sure are testy! One moment.../

Breakdown waited nervously as the static-filled silence dragged on. He hoped Swindle was telling the truth and was able to help. He also hoped this blackmail material didn't follow him for the rest of his life. If his risk saved Scavenger though, it would be worth it.

/Hello? Who is this?/ First Aid's voice responded over the comm, /Hello?/

/First Aid? This is Breakdown. The Decepticon. Don't hang up./

/Breakdown! Don't worry, Dead End is alive and well,/ First Aid assured him, /If you want to get him back we only ask-/

/No,/ Breakdown said abruptly, /Listen mech, one of our troops is dying, and we need anti-rust cream if he's going to pull through. I know most of you Autobots don't care about that, but I also know you're not most Autobots. You respect life in a way I've never seen before. Frankly it's a little weird./

/A Decepticon is dying?/ First Aid asked in concern, /What will anti-rust cream do? That's just for when a piece of armor gets rusty./

/The patient drank rusted energon./

/ _What_!? I didn't even know energon could be contaminated with rust!/ First Aid exclaimed in shock, /I'll sneak you some. How much do you need?/

/I don't know. I'm still in training,/ Breakdown admitted, /His whole body is falling apart, and even his fuel lines are rust-covered./

/How is that even _possible_?/ First Aid gasped, /Tell me where to meet you, and I'll bring as much anti-rust gel as I can. This is just a truce, okay? I know we're still enemies, but that's no way for anyone to die, even someone evil."

Breakdown had to bite down on his glossa to keep from cursing him out. Scavenger was _not_ evil! Those sanctimonious Autobots! Breakdown wouldn't have resorted to this alliance at all, but this was an emergency.

/Meet me on the sandbar about fifteen miles from shore on Laguna Beach,/ Breakdown instructed, /That way no squishes will get in our way. I know how it frags you off when we step on those little pests. I can bring you some books to pay you back. I don't read so good so it doesn't matter to me./

/I don't require payment,/ First Aid replied sympathetically, /I just want to help. I'll see you in two hours./

/Great. See you then./

Breakdown shut off his comm, and then grabbed his cube and tucked it in his subspace. He would give it to Swindle on the way, and then meet with First Aid to get the medicine. He just hoped Hook would understand why it was taking so long to bring back the blankets.

* * *

First Aid managed to rent a boat from a human on the marina to make it out to the sandbar. He sometimes wished he could fly like his brother Blades, but when it came to the life of a patient he would make do with whatever he had to get the job done. He was nervous about meeting Breakdown for the second time, but not quite as nervous as he had been the first time. Breakdown seemed sincere in wanting to help his comrades, and First Aid of all mechs could understand such feelings.

When First Aid got to the designated meeting area Breakdown was already there, his expression stern. First Aid could tell there would be no idle chit-chat, which worked for him just fine. He didn't really want to associate with the enemy after all; he just wanted to make this transaction as quick as possible.

"You got the stuff?" Breakdown asked stiffly.

"Yes, right here," First Aid replied as he pulled a barrel of the anti-rust cream out of his subspace, "I know this is a lot, but I figured you might need more for next time. If Ratchet asks where it went I'll just play dumb."

"Good," Breakdown nodded, "Give it over."

First Aid obliged, and Breakdown opened the barrel to check for the supply. It was there, just as promised. Breakdown nodded approvingly and then closed the barrel before storing it in his own subspace.

"Listen, uh, thanks...for your help, I mean," Breakdown replied awkwardly.

"I'm happy to do it," First Aid assured him, "I just hope your friend gets better."

"Me too," Breakdown replied, "And I hope there are no hard feelings."

"For what?" First Aid asked.

"For this."

Breakdown then pulled his rifle out of subspace and shot First Aid in the leg! First Aid cried out in pain as he fell, and then looked up at Breakdown in shock.

"What are you doing!?" First Aid asked in panic.

"What I have to," Breakdown replied soberly.

Breakdown then pulled out another device, this time a medical grade stunner, and tapped it against First Aid's processor. The young mech fell over unconscious before he could figure out what was going on, and Breakdown quickly scooped him up in his arms for the trip back to the Nemesis.

Breakdown had accomplished half of his mission to make things right. He had the anti-rust cream to save Scavenger, but there was still one member of the team in trouble. Dead End was still a prisoner of the Autobots, and Breakdown needed leverage to get him back. A useful chump like First Aid would make a perfect hostage to make sure his brother was returned to the Decepticons.


End file.
